A Lesson In Opposites

As I grasp the unseen,

never-the-less caught in a reminiscence (so pure)

of yesterday,

the moon glows

at half-mast, a yellow so pale

you can reach and slice it

(as if a Vidalia rose)

I grasp that unseen

- the sweet woe

of swaying to Coltrane’s Afrika pure

as the hide of a bongo,

the tedium of love-throes -

I wander…

Oh, I wonder why

it (the reminiscence) plagues me so.

Though I know what is

true, as well as what is not,

irony is demeaning in its’ omnipotence.

Copyright © 2005 Jacquii Cooke