Home / Columns / Poetry / Red

Red

Jun. 14, 2009
Google plus Linkedin Pinterest
Bees can’t see me.

I’m left to the bats and wind
butterflies and birds

pollinated, pierced, made to tremble
and like it.

Say I do.

Say that I actually prefer the wind to you— indeed,  I am only ready anyway

when breezes come up from the south, so there’s no harm; I’m no injured party.

I planned nearly every encounter with music and wine—the way wisteria sways.

A dance so natural, I nearly forgot I was human.



Oody Petty is a Wisconsin poet. She teaches English and Ethnic Studies at the University of Wisconsin—Milwaukee.

Poll

Now that controversial strategist Steve Bannon has left his administration, will Donald Trump begin to pivot to the center?

Getting poll results. Please wait...