Morning Sex

Morning Sex

Morning Sex 2448 2448 Mark Jackley

We are pushing sixty.
Like snails, when we bloom
out of ourselves to spy
the garden through our blindness
we are dancing slowly,
alert to the flaming
intentions of the stars.
Well, I like to think it.
Imagine it is April,
raw, slippery honks
like loose belts on an engine
that turns anyway,
echo from above
the two-lanes and the farms.
Geese stick out their slender
necks for everyone.

Header photograph © Matthew Yates.

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