Jules

image from tess kincaid

Jules


I dreamed
he was my father;

that I came
from hard water
tucked in his timeline
between New York
and Hollywood,

a summer
of root crops
and soy beans,
wild oats sown
in a Hoosier farm girl.

I craved a king,
some kind of Ramses
from heaven,
to strut clean,
make good the role.

Maybe I understood
the Mongol,
the far-off Tartar,
as not so magnificent
a number as seven.



tess kincaid

January 2012

Posted over on her site Life at Willow Manor
Listed as #1 over on Magpie Tales 99