I played in the field of the minotaur's horn.
The rose trees stretched for twenty miles.
His black eye blinked
my slow heart's beat. I danced all day where
the elephant's hip burned blue in the shade,
where I glimpsed the escape the animals made
before the age had been born.
The green grey moor
was soft as a sponge
on my cheeks where tears
disappeared in the mist.
I wondered if we'd ever kissed
in the halls behind the labyrinth's door
where the beasts blew their breath on the shadow play.
I saw them come at the end of the day
with all to give and nothing to say.
Their souls each put in a hazelnut
that sank in ripples of earth's wet heart
covered in time from fire and flood,
from our hands that pull the world apart,
that turn his field from grass to chalk
where roses blow for twenty miles
and the animals at last
have begun to talk.
posted for earthweal's
Images: Minotaur Caressing A Sleeping Woman, 1933, © Pablo Picasso Fair Use
Swans Reflecting Elephants, 1937 © Salvador Dali Fair Use