Don Vs the Summer of Love
In ‘67 Don’s cock of the walk, locker talk and cologne,
he struts through the summer of love all real estate
and military honours, dressed nutcracker tall.
Somewhere along the journey he meets Brianne –
barefoot Brianne – under the honey locusts of Central Park.
It has rained. The grass is cool. Brianne can’t stay.
She stares into thorns on bark, I’ll always be moving; be moved
someplace else. Brianne confuses Don. She offers him a daisy.
White tassels fall from her arms. She sews on her own wings.
Peace. Don grows impatient. Where the hell do you see yourself
in fifty years time? Brianne says, In heaven. Don thinks, Me too,
bullion hotels, silk women; a big white boudoir of a nation.
Brianne strokes the petals losing their dazzle to dusk.
She whispers, Look at the ruined moon. One day I will be old
and one day you will be old – but we won’t be the same.
Maria Taylor’s most recent pamphlet is Instructions for Making Me (HappenStance). Her debut collection Melanchrini (Nine Arches Press) was shortlisted for the Michael Murphy Memorial Prize. She is Reviews Editor for Under the Radar. Her poems and writing have been featured in a range of magazines including The Rialto, The North, Magma and also broadcast on BBC Radio.