Monday, April 14, 2014

bugs bugs bugs

Bug on my Shoulder
with apologies to Robert Frost

Bug on my shoulder, shoulder bug,
I don't mind sheltering one so small,
but please cling tightly so you don't fall
in my coffee mug.

Slight creature borne by cordial vapor
far from the sharp-beaked sparrow and dove,
together we scan the headlines of
the newspaper.

We read in silence; the news is bleak.
Then we laugh at the same comic strip,
and your feathery antennae slip
against my cheek.

But bug, I can see you eying my toast;
the marmalade glitters in the light,
though before you can take a single bite,
you'll be a ghost.
by Laura Garrison
in Volume 2 Issue 2

No comments:

Post a Comment

What say ye?