Leave Me Not
In the crab-grass tangles beneath the bloomless azalea,
crickets play graveled violins. Rasping concertos weave
through strings of a gibbous moon, pale - and wind turns
in conch shell pirouettes. But tip-toed seduction
is for the love-struck. I am not aroused by the waifish
clouds or midnight dust devils dancing on point.
Tangle me instead in kudzu, bold and twisted, gnaw me
with relentless vines and sunshine. Wrap me in thunder,
drown me in lightning - as storm soaked wisteria climbs.
Lay me on the raw earth; roll me in mud and puddles.
And when you go, leave me - not with starlight,
but with grass-stains to remember you by.
This one needs a new title.