TheChosenOne

Marmalade.

Malaclypse

orange

J A G

We made a picnic once:
Our legs dangling like soggy weeds

Over the ledge of Dumacker Bridge.

Our marmalade still warm-
On folded muffins we held in our hands,
Cupped in our laps

On a Sunday bridge.
And we could feel the willows move
In a brief haiku-

As we spoke of legends gone traveling there-
In the drifts below:

The runaways, and the castaways, and the stowaways
Who shifted beneath us in a heady breeze

Wanting to be like us,
Drenched in that warm, mushy marmalade-
Of a sunrise gone desperately mad.