She came out of the bathroom, beautiful
like a horse painted for war.
I was sitting on the floor
drinking cheap wine from a bottle.
She sat down in a chair across from me
and crossed her legs. The flash of panties.
The strand of black hair hanging down in the eyes.
I smiled. She sighed.
-You are beautiful, like a duck dropping out of the dawn
to land on the surface of a pond laden with leaves and light.
Her hand came off the arm of the chair, slightly,
as a snake’s head will rise above the coiled death rope
of its body before striking. This was a gesture of dismissal.
-I’m not a goddamn duck, and lay off the poetry routine,
because it’s not working anymore. Are you ready to leave?
I thought about this. Let me finish my wine first.
I didn’t move. I was as motionless as a gator
resting on the muddy bank of a creek after
pulling a young doe into the water and wedging
it beneath a half sunken red oak. All I had to do
was sit here, and wait, for the hide and flesh to soften
in the slow moving, tea dark water.
Plenty of time to finish this bottle,
parties and love aren’t going anywhere.
Photo Source: South Florida Water Management District