Cyntax

What I Shall Bring

I, one who has measured rage out in teaspoons
and despair by the cupfull, will wash
my tainted hands clean in the river beside where
we’ve spread out a coat of many colors
on green grass and soft earth, a full basket beside us,
wine poured with liberality into tulip glasses
and open mouths.

I will bring one happy smile to our quiet picnic,
I will keep it in my pocket, softly wrapped in
white cloth and red ribbons
and bring it out after the wind dies down
and the fireflies come out.