by Lana Hechtman Ayers

John Lennon

the way one might
summon a gunman
to stop shooting

whispering words
you cannot make out
in your dream of

Lennon crossed-legged
on the immaculate
white sofa
one of many in his
famous Dakota penthouse

his round eyeglasses
reflecting infinities
in the glass coffee table

Lennon cooing syllables
sweet as corn feed
to the crowd of Columbidae
in his living room

yes rock pigeons
pigeons everywhere
not a walrus in sight

their smooth green heads
their black moon eyes
iridescent necks nodding
as they prance
towards Lennon
such is his anima
connection to these
sacred beings

their pink feet lifting
in rhythmic dance
a trance
a prayer
a karmic call
for all creatures
to let be

while outside
the thrown-open
balcony doors
Hudson River's
waters shiver

and just imagine
seven stories
down below
on the West 72nd
Manhattan sidewalk
a troubled soul

from her forthcoming book: The Autobiography of Rain, published by Fernwood Press, fall of 2024.


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