Waiting at Camp


Round sweet love,

belly button protrudes
arms rest on your
homemade – lover’s table –

lines of empty brew of
tin, glass…

a single ant carries a biting
fly across a redwood
deck near new sneakers
placed on metal
legs – to move you.

as a flame flickers
to rid the air of flying

inside, near
a belly button, legs
are kicked, begging
to be born.

cold stone poised
at the side of a
hill near horse
shoes, tossed in air,
sand flies

suntan lotion,
lemonade, camera
flashes, music blares
legs tanned,
belly bare, and
cotton expands

binoculars to
seek out life,
into the forest,

a yawn, she
rubs her belly
waiting for
her son.

Leave A Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Accept

Angie's Diary