Final Pose

Final Pose
Everybody loves a clown, so why don’t you?

I have news for you. Peter Pan is here! …
In the euphoric state of a remembered dream, She decides,
“Never to grow up.”
from “Pose”, 1996 in Amo, Amas, Amat 2003 pp. 82–83.


I have news for you.
Peter Pan is here!
He is reborn in a middle-aged woman.
She now buys inline skates.
Tinker Bell breathes a spell
In the updraft of her flowing hair,
Rings a heady impulsive beat into her ear,
Flashes the jeweled sparkle
Of the Northern Star into her eyes,
Frappes visions of clowns and ballerinas
Free from her mind.
Re-sewn tuxedo and cosmetic masque
Paint colourful jester
Donning pointe shoes
That blister her toes
As she pushes aged body
Into a dancer’s pose,
Her thoughts transcend physical being.
Think the rite words,
Soar to heavenly, pink-violet passions of sunset.
Think the light words,
Pony-playfully frolic in fresh fields of daisies.
Think the sprite words,
Find the miracle of parting water.
Feel the transition stage of pregnant delivery.
Think the bright words,
Refin(e)d rip-cord trust in living.
Think the right words.
A roam of intoxicating scents assault her senses.
Dawn cleanly showers its dew-laden grass,
Alberta yields earthy bursts of moist, tilled soil and
harvested crops,
B.C. pines eucalyptus evergreen,
Misty musk of Ontario Falls,
Morning rises her with donkey brays resounding
In a Singing Valley of majestic Rockies
Fracturing splitting notes of
the mountain’s rippling streams.
Hotly springs her cerebral orgasm of new thought.
Relaxed by noonday warmth
Of sun’s rays embrace,
She experiences sweat-lodge cleansing.
With the lightness of a realization,
She floats into evening’s veiled mystery
of a starless night,
Finds full-moon wonder in gentle rocking
Memory of her mother’s cradling arms.
Transcend into this second stage of living.
In the euphoric state of a remembered dream,
She decides, “Never to grow up.”

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