|Oct/Nov 2014 Poetry Special Feature|
Tapestry artwork by Susan Klebanoff
An early frost speaks in eulogies.
Rose petals cannot bear the funeral pain,
their time is a summer fantasy
sparked by romance drenched in warm rain.
It's not until numbness clutches at stems
and amour falls to ground,
that naked loneliness takes hold/
the ache/ the cold.
Somewhere in the hub,
dawdling among the reputation of pipe dreams,
reality mixes with whim.
Anything can happen between now and spring.
Mountains could flatten into plains,
liars might speak the impartial truth,
rainbows reward the gold seekers,
commitment may well grow on trees.
Night fowls crow as they wait for icy spikes
to dissolve into edible pickings. In the footsteps
of dream-travel doubts latch onto happy endings.
Nature rotates to reclaim the sweet air.
Winter bulbs wither.
Perennials produce new shoots.
Each dawn is a surprise
despite being flanked by life and death.
It's time to lick the salt from wounds.