Wednesday, July 2, 2008

To Nadja, From Prison

Part three in a series of poems, collectively titled Oh, Loiterer.

To Nadja, From Prison

Reveal to me how fragile is, how we
Did it before the rose, heads like melons,
While the others razed the ramparts of the city,
How the clouds were gauzy like a veil.

At least ballpark it for me. The ump
In me cannot, will not accept desire
As the only blanket to keep us warm
While night forgives our more serious flaws.

Today didn’t do what we wanted it to do.
The first thrills of revolt now fade
Into the terror of major decisions and stress.

Now, nowhere to turn, we sink further into the present,
Smiling at its vast simplifications.
“I’ve come to love forests, only messy ones
That leave you rootless, bedraggled, a pauper for feeling.”

No comments: