portion of the artwork for Jim Davis's poem

Lily of the Valley
Jim Davis

Lantern in the window casting light upon the lily.
The white robe draped over the slow gray mule.
It’s been a long day, he said, eating potato salad
over the sink. A small blue planter birthed sea
horse shaped sprigs of coriander & thyme.
Bones in the dust of human music.
No new eyes upon the fertile gorge.
Frankenstein’s monster works like a gift
& smells like her breath: either milk or sour
mindlessness. Silk pajamas now a thing
of the past & rules of the future world appear
mostly the same. God’s gone recognizable
stages of bald & wears thick leopard glasses
when he reads. Millet for the paraclete in a cage.

Return to Archive

FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 46 | Fall 2015