Today's poem is by Alison Powell


Sigh and stretch tight that bridge of disbelief
between who someone is and might, someday, be.
Looks deceive. You pray that when I press your
back's hot small, I do a whole, raw thing—

do not, say, think of another's sweat, odor
of piss and sawdust. Things get cowardly,
messy. Copperheads nest in clean barns, even
those smelling of fresh bread. I love you

exactly, I said. I lied. I know, though,
that desire to be eaten, mantis-
like, to lose your head proudly. I did once.

It was grand. A magician uncovered
a fluttering dove, it was embarrassed
by the insistent light, flew towards it.

Copyright © 2005 Alison Powell All rights reserved
from Meridian
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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