Hands–puckered, pale, and patched–
slowly grow stiff
in the geometric sea that once kept
them warm.

All branches are struck by
time’s uncontrollable thunder.
Incomplete trees line landscapes, clinging fiercely to
shifting earth.

A corrugated carnation
attempts to coax stubborn antagonists
out from the moist recesses of a
commuted cavern.

wiggle – jiggle – aah!
Warriors clad in ivory overcoats
solemnly prepare for the long-awaited successors
to ascend.

Coarse cobwebs, cradled in cotton,
divide sunshine and
smiling spies from a rambunctious band of
miniature moppets.

Skin, spinning in the wind,
grazes daffodil silk;
from two callow hearts, sharp auric arrows
are pulled.

Strutting secretly by my side
in his thick
licorice coat, King had been a most
loyal friend.

But, when summer sang, he
abandoned me at
last—or, was it I who had
abandoned him?

When he beholds the anguish
of his ally,
hot, briny rivers begin to gush from
quivering eyes.

The caustic thorn which punctures
a cherished one
will crush your own heart into a
thousand fragments.

Two cumbersome drumsticks slap against
oak boards, straining
to turn their aimless rhythm into a
graceful cadence.

At last, the unyielding determination
of youth tumbles
onto an emerald labyrinth of rose leaves
and cries.