JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

you can’t help but

gasp at the way the breeze

blows dandelion shimmer

through her hair

 

and feel the wildness

inside her

longing to escape

 

careful injunctions

and all cranial tethers

pulled out, so that

like iron filings under glass

demagnetized, she scatters

windward now suddenly weightless

 

once

studying for a degree

in art or insight

I came across her slimness

captured in a painting

by some Venetian master

 

her dandelion shimmer,

wild soft abandon of color

as bright today as when she was

first captured in fragile gold

and I knew absolutely

I could simply

take her hand in mine

lift her off the canvas

fly together

all golden paint

 

wild as the breeze

that wafts the mist

from the valley

warmed by the rising sun

like long lost sisters

her fingers open

let me gasp

released and golden haired

to fly off

wordless

into a world of birdsound

and warmed green