i want a spring bonsai tree
posses it as own
shape it to controlling will
In exchange for scrambled eggs
I gave you
Never allowed to grow
Small perfect leaves
On small well pruned branches;
To please the eye
Of miniature torturers.
Cramped in a micro life,
Within un-natural boundaries.
The promise of a tree
Never really fulfilled,
Beyond a whisper.
Fussed over relentlessly,
Like an O.C.D.
Perfect shape and form,
Trained from natural beauty,
To sit on a shelf
Hidden from reality.
i'll keep you safe
legs on legs, breath mixing breath
until joint death
you are my bonsai
focus of devotion, the one treasure
close to forever
sweetness of your eyes
hot lemonade lips, you promise hope
a kiss-infused kaleidoscope
safe, lemonade, bonsai, legs, kaleidoscope, devotion: random words strung together in a rhyming poem, part of an activity in my creative writing class \(@u@)/
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way
a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky
not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car
you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke
and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture
Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture
except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair
and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share
you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower
A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature
mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber
you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher
stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover
engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature
Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care
barely there g-string thin cotton underwear
nothing loud to upset your understated figure
slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière
sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air
I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair
with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr
your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A'
nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui
I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light
yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night
born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein
containing so much love without clutter in your frame
a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire
flutters in your eyes with minimal flare
but deep desire
by Anthony Williams
a bonsai has two elements, the tree and the container, and “once outside its flowerpot the tree ceases to be a bonsai.” Miniturization is not the defining feature of a bonsai; containment is, the strict boundary between the bonsai and the rest of nature. So, too, it was between her nature and mine.
He* wrote his heart out.
On poems *She never read.
His works. . .
v a i n.
— The End —