Wasp's Nest
A heart hangs now
in the center of winter
a vacant nest
built of poison and paper
empty celled
where each lover lingered
in change, a drone to the flame
till ending's escape.
A collection
of spaces,
exit wounds, dead places
to make recollection's ruinous progression,
first conceiving to last leaving,
a Fibonacci hanging swaying;
a summer home buzzing connection
now shelled and blown
on the white breath of the North
while the ambitious maker,
light as that empty cold
quickly curling her legs,
lays down her husk on the crackled grass
~December 2016
posted for real toads
21 lines for Kerry's Final Twilight
and some rather surreal musical comic relief:
Image: author unknown, fair use via the internet
