Poetry

I offer you a smooth stone
worked to the shape of the Trinity
that I picked up on the dead sea.
They caught me a fish,
Served it to me with eyes that stared
and bones still in it,
I ate the chips.
Yogurt from my packed lunch smeared on my skin
Red from the floating and the thick, thick salt.
The bigwig had been shot,
I knew this from the traffic jams and the road blocks,
From the wailing at the wall.
I cannot return here, not the same.
Different eyes would meet the scene,
Eyes like that fish.
Dead and all seeing.

Anonymous was a Woman,
She spread her languid fingers cross the page
And left behind a steady palm print.
Look closely...
Do you see the swirl?

I shall not be a Wallflower
blooming flat and dull,
I shall be a Triffid and break the languid lull.
I am a tangleweed, tenuous and lithe
And I shall strangle every bloom that fights to take my shine.
Mine the dripping nectar of light and everblaze,
Mine the glowing ripples on the water in the haze.
I will not share a morsel,
Mine is every drop.
I will not be a shadow on the wall
Of what I'm not.

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