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Collage: A Vixen, Taunting
by Paul Lastovica
Deep within - a sort of monument
moving in the stillness of a foggy night
momentarily gnawed at
devoid of blood like the center of life
there is room for the violence of nature
chintz curtains soaked with rain
swooping low to taste
memorized cocktail party phrases
cells and atoms are out there sharing blood scents
as speeding moments swallow up grand perpetual sleep
a dream of arranging flowers by the hearth
when the moon is pillowy fat
in search of a way across this great table
where there are no boundries; where greenery and quiet wait
like a cool young vixen, taunting.
06/25/2015 Author's Note: Source Material:
The Orange Willow Review
Spring/Summer 1999
Posted on 06/26/2015
Copyright © 2024 Paul Lastovica
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/29/15 at 03:18 PM Lively, thought provoking piece, Paul. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 07/03/15 at 11:44 PM Maybe I like these lines best because they anchor me in the familiar while other lines disturb and swirl me and pull me from my comfy chair - "a dream of arranging flowers by the hearth
when the moon is pillowy fat". I enjoyed the structure of the two line stanzas. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 07/16/15 at 11:19 PM Life scrolls past us in breaking flatlines and we are unmoving, unmoved...foggy is the operative state. And I tell myselves: "Lastovica said it best..." |
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