© 2002 by PJ Nights

on weatherworn dock
he shucks akoya seeking
the orient pearl
as I watch through the window
time cools talk and tea for two

black trees on blue sky
sift the moon into fractals
across continents
we see the same old manís face
and lift our pens in nightsong

in flame-red trumpets
bees bury fat abdomens
legs rub together
Iíll wait for you no longer
dip deep before winter snows

Central Park pigeons
Cambridge mourning doves peck words
in daily papers
we've haunted these places, merge
at last under orange trees

one cashew dangles
small from a lush pear-shaped fruit
in poisonous red
dress and heels - a camouflage
you find me wide-eyed within

riotous vetch weaves
Queen Anne's lace and purple chives
in wild innocence
our arms and legs intertwine,
fall open in sated peace

ghosts rise from the lake
over homilies of loons
do they laugh at dawn?
as you sleep, I can promise
one more day of timelessness

ERWA May '02
The Emerald Collection Spring '02