Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Tuesday Poem: published in Kalliope in 1986

love at twenty

might as well be
thick white fog
clinging like sweat 
to everything,
burning off
as soon as the sun comes up,

or a ten second 
golden waterfall,
white hot with rapturous light,
and dry as a narrow stream bed;

for all its permanence

why not roll in the shallows
with a cold eyed swan
whose midnight caress
leaves you all by yourself
with a bruise of a memory
as morning pours over
the stony face of Olympus?

1 comment:

Helen Lowe said...

Fabulous--I like this a lot! Gutsy and packing plenty of punch!