Pastoral

 

Brightly colored cataclysm: With slow, slinky strokes

trying hard not to lose sight the way rich people swam.

 

Low, complacent buzz of the motionless, face up,

is our idyll, our bit of Virgil and the forgotten hemlock tree.

 

Swarm into the wilds.

A very young woman against the weather floating on her side.

 

She’s bleeding combs lying about.

This done, rise up slowly through