by Stephanie Kjaerbaek

Created on: September 03, 2008

IV.

The ovum manipulated and destroyed shall not
Culminate into a child.
The buttery blondeness of passersby who
Cuddle in a group hug reminds me
Of cherry blossoms, ballet slippers and jazz poets.

On the grass during the afternoon, I lie and wait
While a pole with the flag hangs high.
The flag moves between tree branches
As the clouds drift slowly away
And the rain advances.

A lovely day for Joni Mitchell songs
Sung in too low a key
Lovelorn but accurately.
With the sadness of Blue on her mind,
An irony I hadn't considered
At the time.

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