springtime :


the answers changed when Jacarandas turned
away to light crosshairs tied back with a ribbon
I set aside Japanese astronauts
if rust was imagined, that barn door bang notion
a stab in the dark, I had no ghost in the hall
no Poseidon seaweed, No Earthly Good reason
no filament stars, no hiccup dandelions
a stayed course of stars, of emperor butterflies

of history and hamartia basking
against stolen observations from Macallan
to Macchiato, the great sunrise shot
I was still hoping to tip the cross-fade scales and
ask you in the Springtime to sail your ghost of hymns
even though there are no seasons in Hawaii
your ocean of milkweed and postcards make me question
handwriting in blue ink everywhere, salt, and space

Copyright © 2015 · Elizabeth Ganot · All Rights Reserved ·

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