Skinny Dipping
Don Pesavento, July 2009
Star-glistened skin listening, she steps,
tadpole-tickled toes touching seaweed
mud-sunken under foot,
rippling the green pond’s deepening dream,
uubuttoning belly-buttoned memories,
placental-rustling bullrush cattails,
opening flood gates, swirling amniotic music,
awakening blue-river vena cava eddies,
aorta-whooshing like a chorus of life:
sentient sentient sentient
Unrequited
Don Pesavento, July 2009
a bull’s-eye at which many
eyes have thrown darts of love
and always missed their mark
a moving target only a marksman
can scope in the cross-hairs
of his rifle which misfires
an object of desire just beyond
reach, a grail from which
your lips will never drink
a treasure map X that marks her
phantom island, off which you drift
like a ship without a sail
a big-game trophy which turns
on you, the hunted, wounded
by her black eyelash arrows.
