100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018
I felt something so exquisite,
my stomach walls
on one snow evening of the moon. Dreamy.
I lived in a licensed sea,
of being everyone
of being the only one,
but oh well,
I still remain relative.
I called in for help
but some friends mumbled,
the rest slid down the slippery pipe
Others had distorted tongues:
One was lascivious
Another was too innocent to speak.
I clutched on my feet in a tap dance
and headed out in a moon-loon,
I felt something so exquisite
like sleep with the word ‘boudoir’.
There were paper towels all over the floor
where there had been a flood
and I said,
Universe, you have a funny notion of size
and yet it works.
Interesting uncanny of the day: When I was looking for pictures for this poem, I came across my own poem that had been published as a picture one time. All this on Google search. So shook! The poem is Gardening.