take note

a small cactus sits dead in his Navajo pot
blue with mold, just on the sill.

his base is brown yet he shoots his spikes
not letting on that he is terminal.

he shivers, dwindles and shrinks--neglected.
still he shields himself, vehement as ever,
a defensive cloak to all who approach.



look, my heart, at the act--
wrap yourself up tight in that thick prickly skin
alone in that stout stucco--a fool's masquerade.

I'll light a votive, and hope, but
I won't hold my breath, I won't even pray.



Take note, my heart
at his dangerous veneer--
proud but no good,
a dry guise.

May 2005