Lines Composed on a Near Pristine Day, Reflected in a Spoon

[Brian Roberts]

Lines composed on a near-pristine day, reflected in a spoon

Bandit breezes, a tinge wealthier now
Having made off with encores of your fragrance-
Invisible You's: contracted no doubt
in some protracted embrace or in
appropriations of skin by the other.

Out there, taut, parted in red-sea fashion,
the rows of a virgin garden tilled for
the ambition of tomatoes and corn,
not remains of our fling, flung motionless,
like a prize baby-doll flailed till faceless.
My rupturing hands mold sadness in haste.