Today's poem is by J. T. Barbarese


The faces in the portholes were alphabetized,
all personal funk forgotten,

and the fore- and background crossed
like lovers out for a stroll,

estranged, then reconciled.
No sun, only seamless light, the horizon

a solar rictus. We were designed this way,
said the poised purple clouds,

as a gangway for you to climb. Yesterday
was the sunlight on the morning paper

and all this, pain and lustrous pleasure,
the deaths at great distances,

the rapture of not dying when you should,
the grief when you do,

was a wine spot on fine old linen,
that quiet moment when you left Madison,

the late-winter glare on a shop door
with pedestrians running laughing in from the rain.

Copyright © 2012 J. T. Barbarese All rights reserved
from Sweet Spot
Curbstone Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

Support Verse Daily
Sponsor Verse Daily!

Home    Archives   Web Weekly Features    About Verse Daily   FAQs  Submit to Verse Daily   Follow Verse Daily on Twitter

Copyright © 2002-2012 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved