Today's poem is by Robin Behn
The Yellow House as God
Saffron cube comets lick,
orbiting the binary system
Door knocker glinting
like a little dead star's
cheeky Eagle Scout grin.
If the man comes through and sends
the telescope for Christmas
how can the woman level
and explain the farthest things
to the boy? The floor having drifted out
from under them so gradually.
The way years went.
Face first into the basin of stars.
A gesture. A something. Consent.
Copyright © 2011 Robin Behn All rights reserved
from The Yellow House
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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