by Doug Bond
the allure of tides
All the things I’ve done
that I shouldn’t,
the pointing of fingers
never made anything
stop that couldn’t be
stopped with eyes closed
or the lifting up of arms
in starfish covered pools.
It’s the allure of tides…
where the heart knowing loss,
does what it pleases,
like the stranger who enthralls
in her short waisted
red coat, or the blue eyed
woman with her hood.
Fireworks
Those picnics
on the hillside
tossing honeysuckle
blossoms in the air,
you chased me
down the patchwork
of strewn blankets.
Where the bricks
were on fire
we laughed deep
inside empty
see-through bowls.
Our faces
were smeared red
in the cherry pits
left behind.
The green wired
glass flicked light
inside your eyes.
Doug Bond’s poetry and short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in: Used Furniture Review, Necessary Fiction, Mad Hatters’ Review, Metazen, and Wilderness House Literary Review. Additional written words of his and links to social media can be found here: http://www.dougbond.me
A-Minor 