The Innisfree Poetry Journal

by Ernie Wormwood

A man and a woman so happy
to have met they smile
way into the pain zone
on the rooftop at the Metropolitan.
All afternoon they blow Miracle Bubbles
into the glass window
from the bubblemaking jar--
great big ones that
pop pop and splatter
as they watch the people of
the rooftop seashore
and sip $9 wines ala plastique
like Superman and Lois
finally freed by recognition, nearly
brain bleed reeling at the altitude of  love
Two large wasps in yellow tube
attire arrive to tango on the veranda
but the drink cart waiter runs over one.  
Oh, how the bereaved wasp moans as
loudly as it can in silence
weeps without tears and thrashes
its wings in grief before
it flies away
How the man and woman talk into the late
afternoon of the suffering of  bubbles
when one hits the glass
How they talk of the widowed wasp
and whether the sun is lonely
what happens when a flower is born
between the concrete and the brick
How they talk of these things
all afternoon at the garden of sculpture
on a rooftop in Central Park
in glorious New York on earth
until they began to moan in quiet
weep without tears and flap their wings,
Did I mention they are angels?  
Ask the clouds, they saw it all

You would think everything had
already been said about kissing
then I kissed him again
after a long time of not kissing him again
in the seduction of the albino moon.
I swear our tongues were crying
from the happiness of coming home
slithering like snakes  
shaking like puppies then
laughing their tonguey laughter
as their feline came out and all
the dogs began to howl
the purring started and took over the world
two cat-tongued lovers
our peachy fur erupting
our claws receding into our paws.

Copyright 2006-7 by Cook Communication