dan---->poem for marika

[heartichoke]

irresistably blind to her own sleek sibilance
she sits, hawk like, in a corner of the newspaper
between the coffee stains and the horoscopes
waiting for a suggestive poke to provoke her,
diving, streaming, into the receding surf
where she will tumble, tumble lightly
singing kiri tiki tum tung boe
leaving solemn laughter in her wake
until she wakes
in a shallow riverbed, where the newts
and I
clamor for her affection
needlessly, for she gives with no qualms
and no quakes, drawing all who are near
to her table, where she serves
hot muffin stew, tea, and oysters
in miniature crystal dishes
and a grand time was had
by all