Sylvia En Route to Kythera

I never much liked

forsythia, never

liked yellow, but

liked the sounds:

for     syth       i       a

for Kythera for sight

for sky for Sylvia.

Forsythia made an

okay divider between

our place and hers.

Sylvia used to trod

through it to see us

too often so we let

all of it grow massive

and dense hoping

she’d go blind in

it then hop aboard

a bumblebee who’d

follow his lovely great

queen as she flew to her

dream isle of Kythera.