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
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Winter 2018
songanddancegirl 