What makes affinity
Is what makes thee thee
And me me, she
free to be who we see.
Brothers, skin sisters, teachers
of habits and hobbits of chance shires colliding
traveling east south and north,
up down back and forth
round the nautilus shell,
with a Maydance as well
for marsupial nuptials and manticore riding.
Babies in blankets and cousins with trinkets,
and mothers and uncles down under the table
with the seventeenth gable
set on a roof that covers ten countries where twelve-month millennials
are hardy perennials
that hide from the frost so nothing is lost
but the note of a name, a picture, a frame,
a face or a form,
above the black ocean
but there’s always the warm
calling look or the motion
of thoughts that reflect like suites in a deck.
Ten of hearts, ten of spades
Ten of clubs are relayed,
your knave is my jack, her king knows the knack
of trumping the queen
without any spleen, so the numbers can fall
in sequence and all
to build a card house and shelter a bard mouse
who wiggles and sings
while plucking small strings
'neath a cheese moon of white
that lights the starred night.
And still in the dream a pink piglet team
pulls a coach made of gourds
to carry the hoards
on their long rainbow bridge above the dry ridge
til that fey light shines free
for thee, she and me.
October 2010 revised 11/6