Sunday, March 03, 2013

"The Lips at Night"

--title from a poem by Tadeusz Rosewicz

Roses are redder by moonlight-- you know this is true
because you imagined it.
You poured out the memory of every red you ever saw
into those bleached petals.
You poured the memory of every heartbreak you ever felt
into a weak poem
and praised the poet.

Therefore I aspire to be transparent, empty and without flavor
like a white china cup
in which you will savor everything that is precious to you.
Lift me to your lips,
take a sip.

Praise the gracefulness of my form,
the light through my delicate rim,
the perfection of my lines.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside

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