The Innisfree Poetry Journal
by Sonja James
Ego Wearing a Bandana
I crave the thin blankets of summer sleep.
I see the stilted beauty of egrets at rest,
feel the waning song in the heart of the swordfish,
hooked and struggling without success.
Though the shadows proclaim humanity on the run,
you are steadfast like the glassy-eyed fish.
You needn’t remind me that flowers sway
in the grotto of yesterday’s expedition
because here they are now—stretching within
the impossible little cup of my mind
while claiming the joke is on me.
Flowers in a grotto? No, impossible—
unless you drink poetry for breakfast,
sipping then gulping until you explode.
I am nothing if not intransigent.
Flowers can bloom anywhere,
anywhere I say.
Poem for Grace Cavalieri
My smile is becoming a page.
Now there is a once upon a time
too harmonious for the age:
with their marvelous sonar
the bats in the cave
detect Cavalieri’s dream
of a mouse sleeping in the pocket
of the coat on the hook
on the wall of the house
next to the hill
where wild berries abound
as an eternal temptation
to the fox and the dove
and the man wearing gloves
that fit kindly and loosely
while keeping his hands
warmer than the kitten’s belly
as it sleeps near the fire . . . .
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