Firmly 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.