WITCHES BROOM

WITCHES BROOM

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

Trees fetter in the wind-

no streams of water just a barren emptiness

and silent space

or action packed hero, good Grace.

Solemn tongues

possessed by words alone, amuse and flicker

as an internal flame doth.

Shall I be charity, or shall I be a taker?

Does the stage need another actor?

Does my pretense of pose work on minds

whose duration is on possession?

Limitations, I trust

are all learned and obscure behaviors.

Trees sway and will not break-

for we that corrupt our senses will wake

and in its place

survive our daily holocausts and smile

tho’ pain hurts, we shan't show.

Quick tongues

will deliver their amusements and die

for only the imperial wake

will shore our definitions upon the other

making sense of these actors.

Sparks of genius may fly

for they ignite other fires in the hay ..

,,, and are you amused

that the grasp of words can be conjured

as a witches broom doth fly?