Pony For Dray Horse

 If milkmaids dance,

I haven't seen it.

That doesn't mean it doesn't happen

when I'm asleep

or dying.

If apples can be poisoned

I haven't tasted one.

That doesn't mean to trust your grocer,

lover,

or restauranteur.

Oh you, decked in white blossoms like some ironic saint,

evangelizing my arms, my tongue, my will

like the loving dead.

I know now that I was kissing a corpse--

one heart beating for two,

pony for dray horse, dragging along.

I can't swear that I'll be smarter next time,

but I mean to be.

I'll remember your face, your ways, your smile,

turn my head like a lady

and spit.

_______

Note: I will be participating less in poetry blogdom, though I will still post my poems here, and continue the Word List. I am mostly HERE now.