Today's poem is by Frances Justine Post
It is a sudden revelation, a tinge like a blush
and there quivered and felt the world come closer
some pressure of rapture which split. The smoke
fades and assembles itself round an emptiness
about the heart of life, untidy. Star-gazing
with the rooks flaunting up, so before a battle begins
the horses paw the ground. It is with the heart
one loves; you are confusing it. The green
linoleum, a tap dripping; it is strange, still.
Watch at night the distant city lights, the lightships
and lighthouses, the curlews, the clink like distant
silver of the hammers, the tomatoes, hyacinths,
pinks and seedlings, groves, grottoes, artificial lakes
with swans. There is a god like a sleepwalker.
All's over; the sheet stretched over and the bed
narrow. The sounds come thin and chill and, you, left
blackberrying in the sun. But this question of love
for it comes back too often, but often.
Copyright © 2009 Frances Justine Post All rights reserved
from Quarterly West
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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