Rhonda Poem 1: The Scarf

I once met a woman named Rhonda.  A remarkable experience.  From it came a series of poems…this was the first.  Much later, I saw a group of people waiting to get in at a museum display.  There was this wonderful rich laugh…I knew it was her.  Amazing!  I knew her by her laugh, alone.

                                              The  Scarf

If you loose your hair from your scarf,

You will bind me tighter yet to you.

It would not be by design,

For you are not that way.

But by an accident of revelation,

As an unsuspected view on a familiar drive,

Or a sudden rainbow at a summer dusk…

Snatching the mind from its ways of habit.

 

You are full of such hazards,

To which I must fall victim.

My capture was so casual a deed for you,

So artlessly done, in such innocence,

You do not know you have me.

 

If I should tell you

Would you make your heart a mirror

For a fool to see himself,

Or a door to welcome me

In some union of terrible joy?

 

While I ponder

Do, please

See to your scarf.

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. why is joy likely to be terrible, Tony?

    • Because it is transforming, often in ways we cannot predict; because it is doomed to pass, as all things do, and the passing of joy is felt particularly keenly; because we are sometimes overwhelmed by its power to consume our reason.


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