Dennis J. Schwesinger | We meet again

A gorgon haled me when
I walked across the pasture.
It had eaten a cow I loved,
asked me what I thought
I might do about it.
I shrugged.
He was a giant gorgon
and strode away jerking
side to side with laughter.
 
We dream sometimes
of things we can’t remember:
a strange place, another lifetime.
I never loved a cow and
Don’t believe in gorgons.
But it was real and in
red and yellow light as if
 sunup and sunset merged.
 
My eyes grew globular, bigger,
saw more, my hands skinny, whiter,
fingers rounded like bowling pins
at their ends and only three.
 
I like to sleep and dream.
It gives me perspective
over loss and grief.
We are at most moments here

and all meet again anyway.

 
 
Dennis W. Schwesinger
Sharing is caring:

Moon magazine

Never miss a post! See The Moon rise monthly in your Inbox!

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

error

Enjoy this blog? Please spread the word :)

Like what you're reading?
Never miss an issue