- View
from the center of a golden cocoon
- By Calaya
J. Williams
This mourning, The Queen of Nothing
attends, with The Princess of
Sweat-Peas
and an Old Woman, winds
hissing change, exposing
a September forest.
Naked music sings,
Mother, contain
our fiery breaths
while dry leaves float
over cold Weber Kettles.
Old Woman turns
off her Toyota.
The Queen spreads a golden rug
under partly-scattered children.
Clouded-blue heads nod.
Evening hushes.
Still, the Queen whispers, Who
shakes our fireweed carpet?
Sweat-peas laugh.
Mother keeps
turning the cocoon.
The Queen says, so long
Summer; sets
an Autumn feast.
The Princess of Sweat-Peas,
red hair in a breeze
green eyes a twinkle
pale elbows on a banquet table
lifts her chin, trembles,
clasps her hands, shaken,
stirs her feet, jerks her head
toward The Old Woman's cottage,
murmurs, "Let's call it a
day."
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