All the napkins gather
below the assistant's desk
cast there yesterday
during a daydream of begonias,
eglantines, knawels and hollyhocks,
flour does not release its frigid
glance into her eyes
held by a picture Isaac left for her
jejune but kaleidoscopic.
Maureen fell out of the windmill
into the lily pond now filled with wandering wondering camellias
and floated a long while, nose to the earth,
After a bit, she turned into hibiscus and sponge
soaking up all the tepid green water out of the bowl
into her intaking ever-expanding soul
And mahogany and teakwood and cherrywood
will line the streets of the rotten town
the picnic will continue growing until the sun rises tomorrow afternoon.
The table placed to accommodate
a summary of your rights is
tearing the Faust myth
on Friday, June second
at two p.m.
into a play based loosely
on Diana Ross and the Supremes.
© Mike Cluff