Poetry - On Kendall Bell (By Gregory Harris)

Well, she could never share a nest with a Halcyon.

There would be too much sand in his tranquil nest.

She’d protest until every agonizing grain is returned to shore.

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If Mnemosyne had a tenth daughter or a half-sister,

She’d be the muse of organization or never ending memory.

An argument with her is a pyrrhic victory indeed,

For she’ll bring up 5 years,

7 months,

3 weeks,

2 nights,

17 hours,

52 minutes,

7 seconds ago

And you’re just screwed.

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Athena might as well be her best chap

And some days I swear she must have something on Apollo

But still remains Cassandra.

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She’s a strange one, that woman.

A curiosity indeed.

Disney, Sherlock, Tolkien, Dickinson, Poe

She’ll speak for hours with a certain energetic twinkle to her eye.

She’s a peaceful, springtime cottage overflowing with fluffy kittens.

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However, ask about herself and the wind becomes anxious to breathe.

She’s a mystery within herself.

She’s the locked door at the end of the hall

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