Song of Venus

Donna Warner, Queen Camellia, shares . . .

THEY say there are no flying saucers
and no life on other planets.
THEY say maybe there are.
THEY send out radio waves anyway.
Maybe a trillion light years from now,
after the sun has shouted its last orgamsic cry,
consumed this world and all her sisters
in conflagration,
and—puff—
contracted in on itself,
some three headed android
on Iris 115
will be watching “I Love Lucy.”
Who can understand an alien tongue?

In my youth I brushed my hair, pulled on bell bottoms,
concocted potions with browned chicken, rice
and an array of exotic spices.
The creature turned,
dropped by for a visit,
settled in for a life time.
I won.

Now I stand on the cool bricks, stare into space
and wonder about lives I’ll never live.
Twinkle, twinkle little star.
Why bother?
Surely even in the distant folds of the universe
age recognizes
all flaming hearts burn themselves out.
So what is this still whisper
for more?

© 2004 Donna Warner

http://www.beinginamerican.blogspot.com