Mangrove Hunters

December 2, 2007 § Leave a comment

Running through the open air
The sound of laughter, me
Things in common with three
Matches of eleven, dozen rare
One state pregnant, identity
The market instructors are
Married in the bathroom minute high
Some want lonely nights
At the B, some still want me
Real some
Forwarding advice
There’s sad
In singular, nick’s in nice
His baby girl, who rolls the dice
In the subway with mice
Carries a book by Sam
Of baseball homeruns
She is unrecognizable as the glam slam
Her strikes-outs are plenty-plentiful runs
The octopus swimming in her head
At 6:20 am
The stone on my ring, its mayhem
Monday morning, awake without a bed
Dream wizard writes like the Who
The lady in the other building turns blue
Falls into her telescope
A witness to eagles without hope
And little elephants crawl everywhere
Without mothers and fathers who
Grow up without eyes to see fair
Their elections of hormones to
Their shaking, let go of the chain
In the mangroves, the link, acid-rain
Bitten by mother earth hunters and mosquitoes
The skiers in the race of fertility knows
Is ceasing; diversity and riches
What’s covered in ditches…


© Sonya Rose

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