Snapshot Poem 26 March 02008

It's spring again. The garden knows it. From beneath,
green and purple leaves, reaching up. Reaching out.

A winter vine climbs the fence. It separates the boards.
Strong and woody, it goes where it pleases. In all directions.

A Japanese lantern hangs on a steel hook. At night, long
winter nights, it warms the garden. I am not like other

people. I watch them, for clues. A woman passes by
with two small dogs on a leash. She smiles. Why?   

I go to the door and look through the glass. On the fence,
at my eye level, a black cat looks back at me. I open

the door, and the cat vanishes in an arc over the fence.
A squirrel eats buds from a scrap tree. A weed, aggressive,

but harmless in its own right, it feeds the tree rats, the various
birds. I am chased by a monster. It's kill or be killed. I am so weak

I can barely lift the hammer; the blow only cracks the monster's
bald skull. Like an egg, cracking. This happens many times, many

iterations. I find a green light and shine it on the monster. I sing it
a love song, and it dies, finally, peacefully. Sitting very still, I hold

my aging cat against my aging breasts. We both purr. With my
breath, we purr. I decide to allow deep pleasure back into my life.

A snow shovel stands against the wall. Unused, unneeded, this
warm spring. Everything has a function. We all do what we must.

Comments

[Cathy]

Hmm, interesting poem, especially the middle section. Yes everything has a function and we must do what we must do and sometimes it's a curse

[Niki]

Ah, spring, a time of rebirth for all. So glad the monster is gone, and pleasure will replace it.