Louisiana – a poem



Rush with me down —

there’s a cold marble swell

as the forest licks your feet.


Green glass-wood water

edges around white walls

of artistic interruptions.


Pond skaters settle on tension;

tight, taut

spring of a diving board

half-out the window.


Plaster twines in-out of branches.

Under soft, stage-lit skylights

spindly men stride in perfect stasis

towards see-through walls.


A jump from evergreen Louisiana;

leaf-spines tick the second hand.


A patch of brown rot,

dead and free,

gasps with so much light.


The lawn is solely green once more


I wore blue silk to Elsinore.




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