By Brad Garber

How you captured me, your command,
the landscape of flowers pale beneath
your brilliant body, your confidence.

Lesser denizens moved away from you
into the depths of your flowery perch
to hide beneath your brilliant cape.

You were a statement, as you should be,
a red scarf around the neck of the boy,
rainbow colored hair on a naked dancer.

And as I watched you take to wing

my resolution to change into something
more eloquent in my life rose with you.

Brad Garber has degrees in biology, chemistry and law.  He writes, paints, draws, photographs, hunts for mushrooms and snakes, and runs around naked in the Great Northwest.  Since 1991, he has published poetry, essays and weird stuff in such publications as Edge Literary Journal, Pure Slush, Clementine Poetry Journal, Sugar Mule, Barrow Street, Aji Magazine and other quality publications. 2013 Pushcart Prize nominee.