May 19, 2016

Two poems by LEE EVANS


Two distended dragonflies
Bound to one another
Circumnavigate the sky.
She soars with abdomen bent
Like a beckoning finger;
He soars, hot for her scent—
Clutches at her throat and coils
His tail about her tail.
They writhe and they toil,
Wheeling, coupling in mid-air:
Veins of transparent wings
Pulsating with despair!

Who was that masked man?
Must have been the Lone Ranger,
Galloping through space
At the speed of light or Mind—
Maybe everyone or no one.
He reached critical mass
And the universe exploded:
A spectacular sight.
But there was a downside—
The night sky lost one more star.


LEE EVANS lives in Bath, Maine and has never fallen from a very great height.

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