Thread: Inspiration is a Night Swollen with Wasps and Pears

I move my fingers
over your wrist
and pluck a pear
from your pulse.

I place it beneath
our bed, next to
the jar of fireflies
we found last July,

next to the dictionary
swollen with pressed
flower petals and
black ants, next

to the mandolin
strings humming
like a pocketful
of hymns. You

weave a red wasp
from all the words
spilling out from
my teeth and place

it on my chest.
Watch it corrode
me like a chain
thrown into an ocean.

I love this intriguing , melancholy poem.The imagery is stunning--stanza 2--3-and 4--beautiful! Then the final stanza--breathtaking, well done. Peace...Jul

Nice and unique blend of images: fruit, insects, books... it all elicits a certain mood - the exact meaning escapes me, but it is a delightful piece -
---todd