Rite of Passage

Kenneth Lifshitz

Bright jingle morning
the can of nalls in the barn
lamplite out
Spotted K1ttens startled,scatter
panting.
A pear dropped
-too soon,
a familiar melody traced on pebbles
by sharp edges of light
shyly drooling-
by the dogwood
an indifferent visitor
replaces vanishing dew.
The forest sound mingled
with my guitar's
broken strings
till a burning harmony seemed
to grab me from behind,
pushing.
I fling
silent bread
on the looking glass
It billows at each touch,-
tickled.
I see where the bastard was,
those small tufts of brown grass
mark it.