Poetry for Strangers: Recalcitrant

gavotte

lawn is the perfect word for itself
stretching lazily to a susurrus dropoff

the snail whispered to the white oak
i know when im going to die
the tree ignored her

the excavation unearthed a statute of mars ultor
which snapped to life and handed to each of the archaeologists
a slip of paper on which was written the day they would die
and the last piece of music theyd hear

recalcitrant horatio slumped at the bar
knocking back stormy weathers
sure, i know hamlet he said
the play got it all wrong
there isnt anything rotten in the state of denmark anymore
if you know what I mean

at sunset the washerwoman saw a boar
tromping through the azaleas and
was reminded of the gavotte
she reluctantly danced the night before with
the tax collector at the town fair

For more, go to Poetry for Strangers: Recalcitrant