My Imagination.
I love your affection
today, tomorrow, and yesterday.
Oh yesterday, do you remember how
you took a bow
and introduced yourself to me?
Behind that tree of bark and love?
With the locusts above?
The yard was positively manicured
as well as all of the mannequins
that haunted me at night.
They are quite…
perfect.
The ones in your head
on that bed
of despair.
Aren’t we a pair
of nameless blunders.
Oh, you say that you aren’t?
OK, my love you are a head
less, I didn’t know about your horse
of course, it is a surprise
But it shouldn’t be.
I want it to be
that we are together
riding bikes in tandem
while laughing by the sea.
Never even a stones throw away from each other.
‘Will you have a coffee with me?’
I imagine you asking.
I am here for the taking
to ‘this’ or ‘that’ place.
How many times have I wandered into this
place of faking and turmoil and confusion?
Only a few, I hope there is no revulsion
on your part that it could be more for me
but let’s not say.
Because for sure I don’t need another way
to stay in one place for me.
but what about you?
Oh dear, I see how my imagination exasperated me again.
I will have to send it a letter and ask that only logic be spoken
so that my heart will not be broken.
But at least imaginations are safely hidden
behind our faces of stone.
Do you think that could cause us to be alone
or just safe to be a bone
that is thrown.
Will I be chosen to be thrown to someone?
Oh please choose me.
Would you see me as weak
if I wore my heart so that you could see into me
and then you could say
that I wanted to be free of this stone?
Would you say that is beneficial?
What if I do end up dying alone?
Does someone have the answer for people who are old?
The young ones can throw their caution out the door
and out of the window and out of the window of a moving vehicle.
And still land upright because they have not a wrinkle!
Do you remember that tree of bark and love?
Do you understand that, that tree can be unearthed
pulled out of its slumber and maybe the eyes that were under the mud
will see again.
But will it smooth out all of my wrinkles or bring back the hearth?
No. Because its just a tree with a number beside or maybe the number is above?
Lets not pretend anymore
about this false lore
that you have given to me that I somehow paid for.
By Margaret Leora Workman; Warponie Art
Leave a Reply