Today's poem is by Christina Pugh
Early spring forsythia: the flowering
of the rod; wood resurrected in petals
unrelieved by leaves. Occasionally
I still mishear its name, forsythia,
for Cynthia, a girl given the regal
gift of yellow. The first blonde.
And when the April ice cream comes,
and men walk in shirtsleeves at noon
or stoop on weathered porches late at night...
how easy it is to speak as if you listened!
As if some local blossoming
might lure you back to this hemisphere;
but apostrophe's the supreme fiction,
as we learned. And I'd say anything.
Copyright © 2004 Christina Pugh All rights reserved
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, 2003, 2004 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved