they taught the child

that love had limits,

judgment and rejection,

ornamentation for pearly gates.

while the skippers curtsied

to the seven sisters in bloom,

she climbed the dogwood,

auburn curls silhouetted 

against a sapphire sky,

a glint of mica in the soil.

colored glass 

and the attempt to stain

an innocent heart,

like picket fences,

and watercolor brushes

swirling pigment into black.

she reveled in the frolic,

a pendulous swing by the knees, 

amid the delicacy 

of  flowering limbs.

and they were wrong.

they are still wrong,

always and ever will be.


© M.G. Iannucci 2017

4 thoughts on “Pendulous

Comments are closed.