by Geoff Hauser
Miranda dines on candlesticks
and things she catches in the air
like bats and bugs and aeroplanes
and hot balloon rides from the fair.
A she-goat though she is, I guess,
(to eat such things) I must confess:
I’m smitten by her appetite
and hope to take her home one night.
She wears a dress of cod filets;
it has a somewhat pungent air
with hearts embroidered on the sleeves
and starfish that adorn her hair.
Miranda’s mother should be proud–
she surely stands out from the crowd.
I’d like to ask her out for tea…
perhaps someday she’ll notice me.
Miranda went away last night;
she caused a spectacle and stir,
ascending in a bright green light,
in all her glorious fish and furs.
I once admired her from afar
and now she flies among the stars.
My broken heart and I adjourn
to contemplate our lessons learned.
© Copyright 2002 by Geoff Hauser. Republished 2003, 2004, 2011, 2014.
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