A Cargo of Green Hearts
~POEMS~
in March the waiting for spring
insists loses patience antelopes the heart over its gates of knowing. I don't recall my first kiss on days like this only my last still darning my sternum still silencing the instructions between my ears. the grass is wise jacketed in seeds withholds the way monks robe themselves to prevent their flesh from burning the Word Everlasting into the eyes of the unready. everything that has not arrived is holy. promises are better than gold, gold is garbage. listen. birds are telegraph signals announcing the Guest. the Merrimack cracks its icy knuckles like a carpenter eyeing wood. I believe in they who eat dirt and breathe starlings. all the Alzheimer's patients of my heart one by one have long wandered off. it is a kind of sadness. now to call them home stroke their silver hair and listen to them the way loneliness listens to lost airmen. we are all slowly abandoning reason to be wise like the grass. when we love ourselves the waiting shuts and and a new kiss tulips open our hearts. Comments are closed.
|
Poetry LogPoems are posted here when I'm ready to share them. I often don't title my poems. The date you see above the poem may be the date it was posted here and not necessarily the date it was created. To see more, click on the Archives below. Archives
January 2020
CategoriesUnless otherwise noted, all content ©Paul-William Gagnon, Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-NoDerivs license.
|