songanddancegirl

"It's about words, and words are all I have…"

WINGING

WINGING IT

There is a bird the size of a 3 yr. old child  who visits my

mother’s balcony  Is he a giant hawk or peregrine?  He looks

at me hungrily  Yellow slits for eyes  glinting  Talons curled twice

around the rail   He has plans for my old mother  +he whispers:

You too sister

 

Handsome as a groom   Natty tuxedo plumage   Regal spotted head

Sharp hooked beak: The better to taste you with my dear   Such a

flirtatious ferryman  so close at hand   It makes one want to sit up  +

take notice  Is this destiny manifest?  Am I manifesting  or manifestering?

And what of my old mother?    Time is wasting

 

Certainly a kind of calm acceptance has set in  amidst my incessant chattering:

To avoid falls upon awakening  sit at the edge of your bed  count to 10  then

dance the horah with wild abandon   Perhaps I should listen to my own advice

As I have just learned that there is a rare gum disease laying in wait   As churlish

dentist drilled down into my soulhole  he chimed: This could be hereditary!

 

Oh no   Not many teeth in the heads of closest ancestors   Father regularly gagged

on foul denture   And  with not a little glee  I threw it down the incinerator  as he

lay dying   I screamed: Be prepared to meet your maker  You the most vile of late

life instruments   Yet in spite of all the gnashing  I throw caution to the wind  +search

for  a Caribbean island upon which to expire

 

One without a dentist  but with a fine 17th century synagogue   And a rare species of

flower   Sensing one’s last breath  it releases a scent   Top note: Ecstasy    Middle:

Harmony    Bottom note: Horny adolescent suitor     Breathe deeply     You are

getting sleepy

__

 

 

 

Winter  2018

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