Monday, May 25, 2009

Garden Horror Story

It promises to be a hot day,
tache de soleil in an altercation
with the electromagnetic spectrum
making the radio scratch and sputter,
has melded its intensified radiation
to high humidity and no wind.
Winged insects with bulbous eyes
and high pitched buzzing attack,
always around the eyes, nose and ears
like they’re seeking ingress,
spelunking for the liquid gold
they know pools in the mucous membranes
somewhere deep in the sinuses
behind the freckles surrounding your eyes.
Dahlias marinate in the humid sun
while the hostas and impatiens hide in the shade
ignoring the droning insects,
waiting for the crepuscular creatures,
when the fireflies rise to mate,
the signal that soon gastropods
that shun the sun
will creep out of their dark crevices,
antennae aloft like chopsticks seeking rice,
slowly, almost stately inching forward
a grand poobah entering the ritual chamber
to devour the acolytes.

Ok, this is a jigsaw puzzle using words provided by my daughter Megan and her friend Leanne Fawkes. The words were: marinate, altercation, freckles, bulbous, gastropod, grand poobah, chopsticks, fireflies, tache de soleil and liquid gold. Thought they had me stumped, they did. Little did they know just how bizarre (perhaps perverse) my mind is!

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