Today's poem is by Lance Larsen
A Tenderness Like Knives
Beside the cottage, a forest she no longer wanders.
Beside the lamp, the remains of two Asian pears.
Beside her insomnia, a man who talks in his sleep,
who sleeps like a bundle of stones dropped off a bridge.
Beside midnight, a sorcery of words: the way miscarriage
re-writes itself as marriage (sic) or I, mirage, scar.
Beside the man's paperback about a lost arctic explorer,
half a glass of water, which centers the room.
Or divides it. Beside the point, this window cracked
open and the cat sliding through, so she sips, as if waking
to stars equaled banishment, or water equaled light,
a desert that fills her the more she wets her throat.
Copyright © 2009 Lance Larsen All rights reserved
from Backyard Alchemy
University of Tampa Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily
Sponsor Verse Daily!
Web Monthly Features
About Verse Daily
Submit to Verse Daily
Publications Noted & Received
Copyright © 2002-2010 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002-2010 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved