Tuesday, September 3, 2013

The Dragonfly

Winged duty since dawn
The wait continues past noon,
years in insect lives.
Does he wish for a cigarette
to pass the time?

Does he imagine a sweet morsel
buzzing in the breeze?
Does he imagine a separate entity
seeking its own prey?
Or simply the necessity of hunger
for a single drop of blood,
a microgram of flesh and lace.

Or does he imagine, while waiting,
more complex diversions,
Clouds of delicacies,
Hovering in the shadows,
The ecstasy of slender bodied demoiselles
dancing in the weeds,
dinging his praises.

He lights another cigarette,
Waiting still, in silent anticipation
Before acknowledging another slow day,
Clinging to the car antenna,
like a faded flag.
Waiting for, perhaps another hour
before leaving,
Nothing, but an empty husk.

– Russell Rosander


1 comment:

  1. I love this. I spend (happy) hours wondering what it is like to be another life form - whether flora or fauna, especially wondering about (their) thought processes.
    Anna :o]