"My Cancer Diagnosis in Three Parts"
1
A trio of ravens
pace a length of splintered
picket like expectant fathers;
cigars smolder
within each beak.
Smoke twists with late
morning fog, forms gray
pretzels salted
with a galaxy of gnats.
2
Sparrows square-dance
in the shallows of street puddles,
preen feathers with rain water
garnished with drips of motor oil,
glazed with gasoline rainbows.
3
Squirrels pas a hash pipe
behind a chimney, spy Death
stirring in a hammock strung
above a bed of daisies. A clutch
of raven eggs tumbles from his pocket -
and he smiles. The sparrows
have swallowed too much gas
© 2007 S. Thomas Summers
Follow this link to comment
|
|
