Judith Taylor

Flora and Fauna

			
Hawk, surprised off branch, circles twice, returns.
Beware the mouth in the mirror, the blur that proves transitory.
You might maximize or minimize to prove the same theory.
In hindsight, the garden belongs to darkness, not to be trusted.
Afternoon belongs to the deer, which stop, hearing Bach.

The Cards' Last Laugh

The doll's dilemma: should she be lyric or play the sax?
If you wander, there will be a sequel, not an exit.
Shall we try and solve the riddle of fossils and decorative clothes?
Ship ahoy!  The wind's insistence that you walk across the bridge.
It doesn't matter if you button up, it always comes undone.

Pink Velour Nightdress

		
The one who is not The One appears in your sleep.
Fling away longings, those squirmy deep sea creatures. 
Does the cat follow you because you feed her or is she a haint?
By day you walk cool aisles buying anemones and fruit.
To work under the spell is not the same as working under the dream.

A Figure in the Toile

		
What do you have in mind?  An ordinary roil in the hay?
I sense shambolic dust all over your choice of clothes.
An omen we're choosing to ignore our thresholds, our dogs.
Asleep, I dream the shaggy echo of chrysanthemums.
Unlock the notebook: torn hearts narrate on and on.