Ramblings of an Optimist

A bounce from the room’s shaded wall, the window

lures me into her portrait frame with an auburn dress,

and a belly ready to give the birth of light in shafts

that tear the swamp into flavors of discarded textbooks

and Fruit of the Loom underwear. The artwork itself

runs across the glass, pressed of finger code: squirrels

hold on in complete trust to their phantom wings on

wire cables attached to poles, an instant getaway from

the privileged hawks that engulf their bodies into

gold streaks of armor, apprentices to the mighty phoenix.

Kittens play hooky from school, nestled and turned over

under the Mother Earth. Rats swiggle their way through

the clumps of matted lawn in-between armies of grass blades;

moist, they are pinned into the soil as I scream for help—

messages with the air of smoke inside cloudy bottles sent to

the fixed pool up above, trapped in its own crystal games.