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Another Song for Clarissa
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Come, Clarissa, come down,
sister to the funky dragonfly,
your yoni pot brewing a vex,
a hoodoo in hot, hot Selma.
Snakebitten hips, pepper lips;
the Real Thing on Soul Train.
I kiss you sweeping the dusty
yard, dangling out poppy red
shirts to flap in the gaudy sun,
bid the weathervane's squeak:
he's-tha-one-yesh-he's-tha-one.
A mockingbird atop the mimosa
trills: "Don't ever forget why
you turn his heart valentine red."
Inhale the corn tassel's pollen
urging plain speak between us.
Call me the grandson of a gandy
dancer, steel rhythms surging
to my fingers greasy on a gold
horn by the gate of a chicken
packing plant to woo-woo you.
Catch me, Clarissa, fetch my
song from a Zulu blue Pontiac
blown glorious as Mr. Coltrane:
I luv ya-I luv ya-I luv ya-I dooo.
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Writer
Bio
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Ed Lynskey is the author of one volume of poems titled The Tree Surgeon's Gift (Scripta, 1990). In addition, his short fiction and poems have appeared or are forthcoming in such publications as Poetry Northwest, The Atlantic Monthly, Fables, Zuzu's Petals Quarterly, Artemis Magazine, 3 AM, Vacancy, Demensions Zine, Planet Magazine, Quantum Muse, and New Letters.
e_lynskey@yahoo.com
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Other
Pedestal Published Works
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