When Zeppelins Float Over Flanders by David Spicer

and my thoughts of you linger
in the anguish of sufferings’
playground, I’ll compose a scherzo
for your vanity and film my top hat,
explaining woodcuts to you.
I glance at memories of your kind face
in dreams after I shave my
lonely sideburns to ask about
your catalogue of sprawling pine cones.
You promenade for me with a grip
of hunger and explain why your cheek
doesn’t blur at the latest ceremony
celebrating your relics at daybreak,
and I hammer nails into sunflowers,
interrupt, and scold you for the accident
my driver didn’t survive. Bow and pluck
your pink eyebrows before you
doze in the easy chair, my love.
Then, I can attend your
opening as the last straggler
from a parade of impossible dreamers.

David Spicer has had poems in The American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Gargoyle, Mad Swirl, Reed Magazine, Slim Volume, The New Verse News, The Laughing Dog, Chiron Review, Easy Street, Bad Acid Laboratories, Inc., Dead Snakes, among others, and in the anthologies Silent Voices: Recent American Poems on Nature (Ally Press, 1978), Perfect in Their Art: Poems on Boxing From Homer to Ali (Southern Illinois University Press, 2003), and A Galaxy of Starfish: An Anthology of Modern Surrealism (Salo Press, 2016). He has been nominated for a Best of the Net twice and a Pushcart, and is the author of one full-length collection of poems, Everybody Has a Story (St. Luke’s Press, 1987), and four chapbooks. He is also the former editor of Raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books. He lives in Memphis, Tennessee.

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