Monday, September 17, 2012
A Melancholy Glowworm
A melancholy glowworm spun a light
of the finest phosphorous my eyes have seen.
I gathered thirty in a jar that night
and lit my way to where I could have been.
And when I found my cheeks in that midnight valley,
I placed a mirror over my lips and looked,
and there an orange molar shone in the barley
and I was in the corn with the crescent moon.
I whipped my team of donkeys and fled my teeth,
and then I came in twos to the duple sea.
I held my jar to see if my light were clean—
the glowworm halved itself and I poured it out.
I measured thirty inches back in my soul
and sat there tossing matches into a hole.