the dreams of frogs

while fauns dance in midnight shadows
and voluptuous ivory and ebony figurines
come to life, his soul,
forever entrapped
behind the glass
eyes of a red murano frog
placed on the altar under the sacred willow,
silently beseeches the magical flute
to weave the melancholy notes of his freedom
for is he not the knight of roses
resigned to an eternity of silence
whispering the verses of his aria
to a love carefully hidden by destiny?

after the spring rites exalt the night's darkness
and the last embers of the herbal fires
welcome the pastel dawn
I take him gently in my hand
counting the miniature circles of hope
illuminating the diaphanous skin his back —
the nine answers to a wise man’s quest

I recite an early morning prayer to Venus
unworthy pauper that I am
to be treated as your prince consort
unwilling vessel of fortune’s hand
hoping that your love will not remain
locked outside of my heart


the dreams of frogs
[2008.11.6...a]
red murano frog poem n° three