by LJ Frank
We first met by an accident of astrology
one could say I suppose
my horoscope hinted it would happen
and our arms literally touched
as if wanting to embrace
at a hotel in Prague years ago
she was of striking presence, her gesture suggestive
swan like in grace and strength of character
another woman leaned forward uttering her name
Petra
and seconds became minutes
as we conversed between words
and within the hour my Sign suggested
Das Hague
and a diplomatic tryst in waiting
though as a cautionary note for the future
Petra whispered in my ear before parting
as she rephrased the Italian Medievalist, Umberto Eco
“laughter slays fear,
without fear where is faith,
in the absence of fear where is the Devil
and if such is the case,
why is there a need of a God?”
so, I boarded a train deep in thought
for a negotiation that was without a resolution
while across the Atlantic
a Swamp Sparrow not wanting to be mistaken
landed in Central Park
seeking nourishment postponed too long
and whose sweetened sounds in the mornings
I was told were measured with gasps while alone
self-exploring beneath the coverings
she was known to haunt sedge swamps,
cattail marshes
wet brushy meadows and boreal bogs
though the city’s park would do;
the Swamp Sparrow with delightful furring and tufts
partially genetics it’s assumed
displayed colors somewhere in the midst
of desire and a rose
and being clever she took note
of what looked like a Bald Eagle on a tree limb above
nonetheless she would with insight gain
a decision entertained
a communion with that other fowl
though her mind cautioned
who would serve as the meal?
and through her disguises
and plumbed up feathers
as to look larger than a life and not unlike
the darker plumage of a hawk
they would become as one
she thought
until the alternative to truth could no longer be hidden
for the Bald Eagle was in reality
a Turkey Vulture
and the Swamp Sparrow decided
that agnosticism best suited her tastes.
