| Wild Horses and Eskimo Kisses by Leslie Bridges-Kemp �2002 The actuality of a prominent problem, developing in foxholes of a cruel reality escapes upon a flat, gray prairie in denial and defiance of absolute obedience. I allude to the nude, gnarled centurion who lavishly oils and perfumes his obesity in myrrh, and light the foyer with candles and profanity as a mere coincidence. Reminiscent of a Sabbath morning when misery was served at the breakfast table hot from the oven, and the Eskimo kisses wilted on the bed sheets like frozen peonies, I release you from the futility of romance and the wild horses flee from your stable to a forest laced in icicles, as you bend to retrieve the dropped handkerchief of memories. A queer, curious squirrel scurries up the oak trees of passion and shakes down the acorns of regret upon the burial ground like the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps leading shyly away from a farce into a surreal scenario where gay fairies play taps on melting sparkling horns abandoning the orphans of pain in the pouring rain as a joyous nymph comes out to play. *** |
 |