Logodrama BY Greg Moss
She deposited her name in my vocabulary
And stepped into my life surefooted like the verb she was.
Nuances of old adjectives I thought I knew appeared thereof.
Evening. Autumnal. Breathless. Open. Wild.
Moreover her presence argued
As convincingly as the softest concrete nouns:
Wild and Flower. Dove and Sky.
Adverbs trailed mellifluously, ethereally from her gown.
But , alas she was a verb,
Transitive, on the move.
Ultimately even the nouns turned abstract
Like Delusion and Caprise
Trusting in her indicative sighs.
I never suspected she would leave me
In this blue subjunctive mood.