Today's poem is by Elyse Fenton
Love in Wartime (III)
The teacher wanted a clearer starting place.
A map or else a mapping on.
Towns, green hills, a common vein of road.
Newspapers that spoke overtly
or else never spoke of war.
But in the poem's road
there was always something burning.
Petrol blue-smoked the borders
and no one was allowed out or in.
Somewhere a clot of tarmac singed
brightly like light through scrubby trees
and it was impossible to step from the median
minefield, lodestar, beautiful amputee
Copyright © 2010 Elyse Fenton All rights reserved
Cleveland State University Poetry Center
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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