I am Pretending to be a Mayfly
The branches hanging over the lake
Cutting the sky into stained glass mosaic
And the gravel spilling over the banks
Disturbed by the feet of joggers
Drops into the water thereby
Segmenting that clear plane as well.
Everything is grey and brown.
Ivy sags a rotten leaf over the fence
Through which chainlink I can see
Yoga people doing poses in the park.
Each yogi is framed by her own
Chainlink diamond and a toppled
Bicycle stripped of its front wheel
Lolls in the bushes like a crime victim.
I am here for anyone who needs me but
No one needs me and that's fine too.
I am like a bee in a honeycomb
Waxing myself into a hexagonal cell
Hoping I might emerge transformed
Into some new winged insect.
But of course
That doesn't happen for bees.
Wallace Barker lives in Austin, Texas. His upcoming full-length poetry collection is titled Hawk and Dove. More of his work can be found at wallacebarker.com