what do the honeybees
and the hummingbirds
think they are doing
as they dip and drop,
weaving the wind
in the red fringed
feathery fields of lace
in what language
does the fungal earth
thank its leafy grasses?
we are all
islands of misanthropy,
insular universes,
pillars of solitude,
but why, then,
do mitochondria flourish
in the sovereign nations
of our flesh,
and why do I yearn
in the stillest hours
for your breath on my skin?
M P Jones IV
and the hummingbirds
think they are doing
as they dip and drop,
weaving the wind
in the red fringed
feathery fields of lace
in what language
does the fungal earth
thank its leafy grasses?
we are all
islands of misanthropy,
insular universes,
pillars of solitude,
but why, then,
do mitochondria flourish
in the sovereign nations
of our flesh,
and why do I yearn
in the stillest hours
for your breath on my skin?
M P Jones IV
1 comment:
M.P. Jones IV is a recent graduate of the University of Montevallo, editor of Kudzu Review, and a working writer living in Alabama. He hopes to pursue a graduate study in Environmental Literature next Fall. Some of his scholarly work is forthcoming in the recent edition of ISLE, fiction in Sleet Magazine, and poetry in A Few LInes Magazine.
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