I'm

I'm not who you thought
oh no you figured it out so
you thought but ho, you were
wrong to think, such thoughts
they steer off course,
a car I once crashed
but on purpose, a field,the cows
look curiously on and I sat
head to the wheel and sang
my mourning song. the long-
held tears sprung forth, well-springs
fresh Spring is about to appear
they say, and all I can think
is the truth that I know that
in the greening of trees, more
hearts will die, the month of May
a fade day. There's nothing
nothing at all to recommend
this mindset. It bangs, bleeds in
a contusion that nobody sees
as it seeps throughout the skin
and the grass flows mournfully
southward to a town i once
was in, where I felt it all would
begin. It didn't. Or wouldn't
our couldn't. One of the n'ts
that suggest You have failed.
The car idles. Coughs its exhaust.
Nothing has changed, except
now spit tire mud, stuck in a field
No help, no person in sight. Find
a phone box. The line is busy.

You have been warned.

_________________________

Farmer's Yield

What do you seek
In such dark, tight petals.
A knot that begs to be undone.
You cannot resist the tight bud.
Plump lump, black-lipped and pouting.

It is deceptive; a death crepe.
One has passed: here we mourn.
Her death stench floods the heart
Burns the eyes. I sense it before you.

It takes hold of our bloom,
Choked by her taproot
My soft-scented jasmine
No match for such vines
That creep, cling and choke.

How you marvel at her blacks
Roll the dark hard seed
On wet tongue; spit it out:
Plant another.

How they reap
Our rich soil
Our garden robbed
Of such fertility, now fallow.
The flock dog is lost.

Someone is done for.

_________________________________

sadi ranson-polizzotti (more)