Her toes dipped in the Central Park reservoir, breaking surface
concentric circles of red, amber, and purple waves
massaging themselves into soil
to soak the roots of Kwanzan cherry trees
A song was sung this morning about her lament in perennial limbo
that will be lost between corporate-sponsored Summer Jams and Christmas Musical reruns.
Feet buried in earth, she stands nude in the city parks floodlights
A defiant & immortal middle child acting out
against everything in her view
Mist sprays off of her body
made of souls both hot from Hades
and cooled under Utopian rains
tongues throbbing on the outside of their lips
With her mystifying spell the emerald crowns on the tops of our trees
become the hats of Fools
PaPo Santiago
9/22/09
CapicuPoetry.com
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