I love nieces and nephews, friends, trees, parks, birds, books, the arts fine and coarse. I love our short, odd incarnation in flesh, the jackhammer and its dental-like technician. Like that. Most of all I love this, thinking, staring, writing, being; conjecture on life and not-life.
And the word "blubbery." Tough word for a woman. Good word for the dental technican at the jackhammer. And our progress towards healing. Bingo. Enjoy, my Valentines.
A Scarlet Moss
It was weird. Mom disapproved
and Pop started shaking
like he'd seen a fluffy pooch.
He has his fears.
So what if I'm blubbery.
I want to roll on whorish moss.
I could wake up or you could
set fire to the marriage counselor.
Love so slippery needs handles.
Wedding planners are a food group.
So is roast beef.
The horseradish of a different color is pink.
Perhaps you're hip: Work sucks.
That one gets folk fired.
Her husband's mean.
I hope a scarlet moss does cover the land.
All I need is
rub its science fiction with bare feet.
The human soul has been invaded.
Rub it and heal.
Sarah Sarai, pub. in MiPoesias, 2010
***rapt attention provided by Jonathan Morse and friend