Ghazal of the Bright Body

Weary, the week unspools from its bobbin.
In a corner, cobwebs are spun with it.

Wind flew on a blue bicycle of rain,
took the streets, sidewalks and sun with it.

A book of Valentines lies near my bed.
Some afternoons I warm my gun with it.

I want to fill my lungs with acorns, hay
and apricots, then have done with it.

In the back garden there's an ailing elm.
Through the window, I am one with it.

I dream joy's a cheetah on a highway.
I pull off, ditch my keys and run with it.

Copyright © 2005 Sarah Sloat All rights reserved
from West Branch
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission