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Love Song for Mona
Loosen the fillet, go where water silvers
The green air;
Throw to the icy heart of a leafed pool
Your dark hair.
Smite it with music, scourge it with softness,
Cleave it with proud
Line after stinging line of darkness;
Shower a cloud
Of insolent beauty. Why should it, knowing
All that is known
Forever of bird-breast, star, and tapering leaf,
Forever be stone?-
Giving, for so much given, only the cool
Impertinent stare
Of silver? Loosen the fillet, go to the pool
With your shadowy hair.
C. E. Burklund