Calabash Pipe

Rum and Robots

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on – Poetry by Joni Caggiano on 7/5/20

I walk through dark waters and study them turning memories to blood
the full moon shines her dreamless side down, with disdain for the divine
moving into the shadows and the grays of night, with its cautious arms
two lovers lost their way, in the swamp, where the cypress grows into the air
tattered pieces of white crinoline torn, lay in tangles by the marshes deadwood
brown was the calabash pipe, of her lover, floating days later, nigh the edge

only curiosity seekers roam the eerie grounds as the bullfrogs sing
five dollars a ticket hoping to see a sign of my visitors who vanished so long ago
the smell of sweet tobacco works its way passed the cattails and smoke rises
gardenias have not a bud near, and yet the sweet smell floods the tree line

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