Mistaken Identity

Three days within three weeks, I’ve encountered gossamer trails crossing my path. Thin pearlescent desire lines. I follow them to their creators — elegant but slow moving mollusks — which I’d taken at first glance to be leeches. A later realization marked them as slugs.

 

Mistaken Identity

You, riding the wave
a deliberate procession
of one, head a slick crown

too linear for your own good
taken, some say, for another
poorer relation who never

shrinks from a little blood
letting all be fair game
for a bit of rough sport

prince or pauper         mind you,
pride brings its own end
you’re not above the salt

[If you’re enjoying my poems, why not check me – Brenda Joyce Patterson – out on social media: Facebook, Twitter, and my website. Or sign up for my newsletter.]

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