Pastel Hollerings. by Tom Bishop
Will Dockery
I ate your pigs of poetry;
we tasted secret chemicals.
You come to me
like wood on bone.
As roses petalled, beauty fell,
and you, in pastel hollerings,
assumed a tuneful pose
in printed skirts of sunflowers.
--
Tom Bishop
Note - inspired from:
"Skirt of Printed Sunflowers"
by Will Dockery (see r.a.p. recent)
Skirt of Printed Sunflowers.
Girl of these woods and chemicals,
we labor for the black pigs of my poetry,
for the bone gods of the sea,
for the secret rose you keep for me,
under the skirts of printed sunflowers.
There is a hollering and someone has a
dog that barks,
your eyes have that recently crying look,
and your hair seems as soft
and your smell as sweet, as before,
as that last time you came to my door,
in a skirt of printed pastel sunflowers.
But it has been seen that you look
straight through,
I fear that you are already gone,
that night you tried to die in my arms,
is something that I will not forget
or make sense of,
you and your skirt of bright printed sunflowers.
Methinks that you no longer see nothing,
and god knows what kind
of love is this,
you told me that you never stopped loving me,
but you could never return to me,
in your skirt of printed sunflowers.
-Will Dockery 2001