Aug 8, 2014

Friday Poem

Egg Rock Pageant

When she tires of wrestling
images and metaphors
she flees to her garden
decorated with rocks.

Pacing slow
the distance of two pinic tables
her head hangs
a perfect slant,
a puppet at intermission.

She’s always looking for rocks,
the ones shaped like hearts
an idea she got
from a round lady at bingo.

        So far she has two.

In the back corner
she keeps a raised bed
marigolds, vincas, tomatoes,
mostly she has rocks
river worn white, beige
and a few, a hint of nursery pink.

The contender hearts
resting on a brick wall
waiting for the day
of the egg rock pageant.
She says she will invite me.

     “There will be pomp and certainty”

She tells me the queen rock
will reign on her morning table.
A paperweight of sorts 
for the Sunday crosswords
the breeze inside her home, 
sometimes a novice wind.

by Elena Arosemena