A thousand leagues in leather tongued squall,
Booted feet are ponderous-- inside toes
Are wiggling, wiggling, snaking, stalling-
Over the binding ivy sea.
Useless are the bucket tails, that step,
Taking in your padded sole. The pale
Cooling pool- jump like dandy shellfish,
Or tread in callous silver pail.
A muted journey, fabled, solemn;
Take the magicky sleeve-tails and swing,
Swing a peacock marble tail, under
In lofty pieces, blue and white-
The mottled, dry and musty travels,
Streaking orange, craters-- lordly;
Through tongue'd boot you thrust, a stepless
Hanging steeple door-- open wide,
Stand! Be beaten by rainy pounding,
My soggy, tanning brush whip friends, are
Laughing, laughing, at my sour old mouth,
As I wring my tepid cotton.
© copyright Eve Redwater 2011