Colin Bell
Dragon-Fly

Drawn
here
in grief.
Seduction
by melancholy.
A golden pond at evening time.
The liquid fragmentation of Summer's dying light.
Propelled here on this last dragon-fly day, inevitably, translucent wings crumpled,
cast-down rainbow summoned to a new transformation.
I fall, water-ripple entranced,
face down in the gold.
Diluted,
absorbed
by
black.