we were floridians
a poem
Do you remember the way the spanish moss hung
stubbornly groundward in the wind? Drooping,
gravity-bound, beyond the gnarled arms of
great brown oaks? Spanish moss that could have been
the gunk dripping from swamp monster elbows,
maybe careening every minute or so (when he
lifts a hand to scratch his nose). And when
their stubborn threads did move, they moved
together, like every elbow of every violinist
at the crescendo. Like mermaid hair
waving in a slipstream, gray-green under
filtered ocean light, gray-green like the vague
underwater memories of land colors. Do
you remember that I dared you to wear
it on your head, so you could be the monster from
the swamp? So you could be the mermaid,
underwater? And it doesn't matter if it's
another thunderstorm at four, when I remember
the way you smiled from behind those
silly curly tendrils, when I remember that
you heaped them into the basket of your bicycle
and rode around all day like you were a courier
delivering a giant bowl of pesto fusilli col buco...
My heart sings like every violin at the crescendo.
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Comments (6)
Very good imagery, stellar word use ❤️
Nice
Wow! Just meeting Morgana. Already love the name. From over in Camelot. Lamar sent me over here. Happy he did. Lovely poetry.
The structure of this feels like the branches of a tree. All part of the whole but each line "hung" unto itself. Really clever and thoroughly heartwarming.❤
Love the imagery and emotion! great stuff!
What a beautiful memory, poetry even before it has taken form.