modern poetry

I sit, I wait
my eyes travel the page
over, over, side to side,
pretending to understand
or care even on my
second sweep of text.

Waiting in the shadows
Double agent breaking codes
Captivated by your beauty
Wary though of being played
Summer air thick, humid and smoldering.

This afternoon the rain
cleared the drought, thunder
and lightning spelt a foreboding shadow, my muscles twitched. I
thought it was the earthquake again.

Those tresses, dark eyes
entangled in light, bathing
in the day’s summer sun,
I move across, understand
delusions, a bit of life’s strands. Picking up yellow autumn leaves
this is love.
Is not.

Each flower opens like memory
Each mind is holiness
Mother can I be like the gnashing wind, trampled by man, his
hieroglyphics?

Take that silver circle
from the bed of dark
cloud wisp

Wrap it with complementary
bows and wrinkled paper

Put it in my palm
for a beautiful holiday.