Today's poem is by Molly Tenenbaum
For My Biographers, Hints of My Lover
Earth, air, the whole astronomy, more,
coffee, chocolate, hops, more
underwater aerodynamics, more
star-blue paper: I never
wished and got. Instead, brimmed
in the wish's blank spot.
Years like a comb, hair like a road.
Been about to say l could meet early,
about to ask for dinner,
somewhere with hazelnuts,
somewhere named Lark or Persimmon,
but let's not spend money. Longing,
ride to me over the mountain. Yes, I know it's sinking,
but I'm only half-romanticizing
in my little song of porch swing and sorghum,
my native tongue, despite the world, speaking Gold,
though I practice Tire-tread, though I'm taking
conversational Pea-gravel, thankful
to have at least distance
to think of, light year,
Leonid, ultrasound. Sometimes,
the tight weave relaxes. Tisket, a tasket.
Sometimes I tidy the desk.
In some things, I'm consistent,
basket heart, the green and yellow days.
Copyright © 2007 Molly Tenenbaum All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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