A Poem for Daphne, No 21
by Duane Locke

    Lady,
    A blanket on your bed
    Is embroidered
    With a simulated peacock,
    His tail,
    A variety of green colored threads,
    With a little gold.


    Through the window pane I see
    A lizard
    Drop a sun
    From his throat.


    Lady,
    Atop your never-opened piano
    Sits
    A crucifix,
    Lipstick stains
    In the shape of your lips
    Cover the bleeding wounds.


    Through the window pane I see
    Bees emerging from corollas,
    Their fuzzy, dark legs
    Speckled with gold.






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