The pearl slapdash of the moon is on the water.
It won't linger there long, so drink up and take back
your legs from wavering's pumpkin lip, before they slip
and are lost in a slurp of mucky goodbyes.
The ruby blush of the sun is on your shoulder.
It will fade with a mounting calm, unless you dive in
and cast off that dithering squirm of a pout.
Afterward we'll sip, now is the time for devout swims.
Apr 13, 2010
Apr 13, 2010 at 2:54 PM UTC
The pearl slapdash of the moon is on the water.
It won't linger there long, so drink up and take back
your legs from wavering's pumpkin lip, before they slip
and are lost in a slurp of mucky goodbyes.
The ruby blush of the sun is on your shoulder.
It will fade with a mounting calm, unless you dive in
and cast off that dithering squirm of a pout.
Afterward we'll sip, now is the time for devout swims.
The first line is from a poem by Norman Dubie. The next seven likely owe it an apology.
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