Ode to William Carlos Williams
Written by J M Bristol on Tuesday the 19th of October 2010
Your little red wheelbarrow gave no hint
of the succulence of apple-tree thighs
and suggested a man more linear
in his world of colour and rain.
The white chickens said nothing of your
nakedness in the northern room
that celebrated your revelry above the gaze
of the multitude.
But the rainwater told an indelible tale
of sensualness in a vibrant soul
upon which a life depended
for its relevance.