To two prompts in the imaginary garden

Richard Schear photo

we met on a voyage

from the top of the yew

all the way 

to a blue door

on the moon.

as the silence

grew murmurous

and leaping

candle flame

pierced the blackness,

I saw you touch

your knuckle

with your tongue,

then leave your garments

by the door.

There have been many things happening lately, some exciting and some heartbreaking. I was unable to respond to prompts in the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads until I considered Brendan’s list of Sylvia Plath’s words alongside Corey’s prompt about meeting people while traveling.

Of course we have met many wonderful people, some we still count as friends and probably always will, but no words could push pain away except writing more lists of things to do.

Suddenly, quite unexpectedly, the above poem came to me. It doesn’t cover any real travels, it doesn’t use my first-year-college Spanish, but it came, as I suppose it was meant to do, almost unbidden.

K