Poem for Saturday, July 6, 2013

Damascus Steel

Passing by a certain field bleeding yellow
wildflowers--

what came to mind was when a girl told me
to wait for her in the tabernacle because
she wanted to change into something I would
like. After she left, I sank in the oak for some
minutes, swatted at the dragonflies, wondered.

Finally, I caught her: xanthic hair, flanked by
her girlfriends, approaching in a summer dress
lost somewhere between lavender and indigo.
These were the circumstances of her return.

And then, "What do you think?"

She slayed me with the force of Damascus steel.
She had the skinniest legs.