Stranger, mislaid love, I will
sleepwalk all night not girlish
but zombie-like, zombie-lite
through the streets in search of
your arms. Let’s meet at dawn
in the park to practice an ancient art
while people roll by in the latest
space-age gear blank as mirrors
above the procedure in the stainless
steel theaters where paper-gowned
we take ourselves to take ourselves
apart. Tap-tap-spark. So little blazes.
Cover the roofs with precision hooves.
Push back the forest like a blanket.
A bird the right color is invisible,
only movement catches the eye.
My most illustrious Lord, I know
how to remove water from moats
and how to make an infinite number
of bridges. Here we are at the palace.
Here we are in the dark, dark woods.
© Lisa Olstein
Some other works of this poet:
- In the Meantime
- Dream in Which I Love a Third Baseman
- Run Every Race as if It’s Your Last
- What We’re Trying to Do is Create a Community of Dreamers
- That Magnificent Part the Chorus Does about Tragedy
- [White Spring]
- Air Rights
- Radio Crackling, Radio Gone
- Your Country Needs You
- Dear One Absent This Long While