Friday, April 22, 2016

Water Lily

I am famous: the sacred lotus,
a symbol of grace and purity,

                 though to croaking frogs I am no more
                 than a hang-out joint, an all-night store.

My petals enfold stamens of gold.
I float, serene, while down below

                 these roots of mine are deeply stuck
                 in the coolest most delicious muck.


How Rivers Flood                               

Bad news in Current Events:
you flirting with Judd Roth
while Mr. Hunt drones on
about natural disasters.

“When a river floods it
remembers its old path,
the one it used to follow
before dams and levees.”

He calls on me. I shrug.
Who cares about rivers,
you, these dark waters
rising fast inside me?

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