strangely tinted dandelions


this is how spring comes,
stripes of green between

herring-boned brick, fern-fronding,
bare-armed, broken-eternitied;

mindful. (i am) convalescent,
cognizant of the dragons

that still lean in, hungry.
they bite at me, at

wrists and cheeks and eyes,
blindfully, so that my shape

is not the shape of others, ever.
after dinner, your stereo

won’t work; you ask me to sing, but
i’ve got only that song

where the girl is leaving and the boy
must drop everything to catch her.

(and that is
not us, after all.)

dragons, as everyone knows,
hate the sun. while you are gone, i sit

on the winter-warmed stoop
bare-armed, watching spring come,

scars palely fade, wondering
how this song will end.

20 thoughts on “mindful.

  1. wow…rather heavy feel to the end…the end of the song…and that ties well with that only song you know…def felt joanna…love the dragon that nips at you as well….dont we all have them? smiles.

  2. Honey, you have the right song, but you’re singing it to the wrong audience. Yes, your shape is unlike others and therein lies your magic. Do not underestimate the potency of the spells you can cast. Yes, spring can really hang you up the most, but that song’s already been played out. Empty that full mind, face toward the sun, onward you beautiful soul! Your pal, el Moskowitz

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