Today's poem is by Philip Gross
As you paused to flick away
one crumb, all you'd been saying, all
I was about to say
deserted me. I saw the tired
skin sand creased by a flash-flood
then parched inside
your elbow, in that place
with no particular name. Erosion,
grain by grain...I can't make
you beautiful. It frightens me,
how little we miss, so close. Not a crumb.
What do you see
and not say, that I deceive myself I hide?
What love can't do
is save us from ourselves, or from each other.
All it can do is be true.
Copyright © 2002 Philip Gross All rights reserved
from Changes of Address: Poems 1980-1998
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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