DANCE OF THE DRAGONFLY
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:22pm
Every night @ 9:30 I swallow a concoction
of medical remedies for sleep
— not to build a cocoon of ages —
but to bury Me underwater
like The Dragonfly Nymph
Who emerges after several years
into clear summer air
to fly the frenzied mating dance
to be admired
should She land against
the sleeve or head
of The Silver Haired Doctor
bent on examination
Joanna Gilman Hyde 
“but to bury me underwater”.
Such imagery leaves me breathless. Keep writing, Joanna! You’ve caught it in your arms; now run with it.
I’m trying to walk leisurely, now, in the direction of the greatest pursuit of my life — trying to be graceful and not fall flat on my face when I finally catch him (Hunter, you’re already caught).
A little more “poetic” than your usual style. I approve. Not that that is my business except peripherally. 🙂
Thank you, Ben. It felt good to write.