Marigold by John Hayes

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marigoldFirmly anchored to the soil

near the lazing ripples

of my pristine pond

where Grace, my piranha, plays,

Marigold frolics madly in the sun.

I am her only love.


Her body slim and tall

her hair a golden hue

she styles her smile for me.

Swollen with ecstasy

I hasten to her side.


Then, hovering at her petal,

buzzing syncopated sounds

a beguiling honey bee.

Her pistil wavers

and against her lips of gold

I view pollution of her purity.


The foul deed finished

her lover flees.


I grin at Grace,

Her red eyes lust.


I gentle Marigold from tarnished land.

Grieve into her sullied bloom.

Forgive her dark transgression

tender her into my pond.


Grace streaks.

Oh, would that she

could be

my truest love.


AUTHOR BIO: John is a sculptor who once appeared as a scurvy-looking corpse on Homicide.  Now he gives poetry readings, acts and directs in community theatre.  Flesh and Blood, NFG, Night To Dawn, Thema, BareBone, Wily Writers, Modern Haiku, Writers Journal, Champagne Shivers, Premonitions, and From the Asylum, are some of the magazines that have published his work.