Later, Woolly Mammoth

Examine my amygdala

I don’t have amnesia, yet

 

Click-clack, I heard the heels

I know you let your volcano go

 

Cherry called

And I’m not your rook

 

Don’t be anxious:

it makes you look so primitive

like an obsolete mastodon,

just as I’m digging–

something a bit more avant-garde.

This was written for Shawna’s Monday Melting Prompt at http://www.rosemarymint.wordpress.org!

Smoking Will Kill

 

Smoking will kill you

Muttering it is useless,
Screaming it vain.

Shaken to reason
by the heart doctor’s blank stare,
the boat entirely missed.

Machines humming
powerful tunes into her,
ones hummed since childhood.

All that grinding gathering speed,
gathering fear, fluent in you.

Rise, spit it out, slam it down,
All is useless, all is vain.

Except an abnormal
one-on-one May day–
overgrown field,
youth and her true hum,
strawberry juice running down your chin,
and love so deep
the grinding will never grasp.

Written for Shawna’s first edition of THURSDAY MELTING here at http://www.rosemarymint.wordpress.org.

Potpourri Path

 

Senescence begins the day you are born —

though youth may eclipse it

with a potpourri path

kaleidoscopic and gleaming

like freshly cut kiwi.

You may seem to blaze every forward —

yet each year is but a slight caracol

toward the savage and rusty road of dependence —

Retaining full control of mind or body becoming

an uphill trek with each passing milestone.

The cure, the most potent balm being

the tickle of skin on skin,

a hand in your hand —

the tingle of love

and a dose of what is true.

This is a response to Shawna’s Melting Monday prompt at http://www.rosemarymint.wordpress.com and is also at Diverse Poets’ Pub at http://www.dversepoets.com!