Tuesday, October 4, 2011

"Seasonal" by James Cervantes

Sweet work in front of a mirror,

all the world behind in terror.

Neat work in thinnest shadow,

fall in the north, spring in the south.

Horses and jeeps, mired in snow,

balk or stall. Somewhere, a mouth

nurses open to create surprise,

clock in death a second time, lift

an eyelid. Harmless flirting eyes

summer in Puerto Rico, then shift.

Plan nothing, she thinks. Funereal

winter holds, an eye and window

frosted over. A blind sky's missile

landed here, a new season's show.

1 comment:

  1. This came to me in three stanzas of four lines followed by the final two. Blog lost the space breaks.
    --Kelly Cherry