Natalia

You who hear in disbanded prose 
unbroken by rules of art
a sweet chocolate symphony
walk a wet city street. 
A storefront washed in neon
reflects in leather eyes.
Windows flash shiny trinkets, 
and old folding knives. 
Pale hands, red-tipped, 
dive in plastic bins and
pluck out a rusty watch. 
Now it ticks quietly on your wrist
and the wild torrents of its heart
say “I love you.”

Posted in poetry by Samuel Swauger

Pebbles

In between each flap
of a butterfly’s wings
the air currents recede.
Tides on an pale beach wash
in a pebble, once a fish.
I am forced to think of
the ages it’s taken in
rings of a tree to build
mountains.

Posted in poetry by Samuel Swauger