Today's poem is by Philip Gross
Love, be flagrant and delicate,
a riot of tact, the careless falling-
into-place exactness of it all.
Be the singular coupling, the lingering
lightning strike, the solemn giggle
loud-hushed, through the midnight wall.
Be the tink of ice cubes on the edge
of melting in an equatorial heat;
the sun, downed in one gulp, pops up
to a raucous creche of parakeet
and howler monkey: ancient cries,
today's news in the forest canopy,
same difference, the first time again. Us?
I-and-I, as Rastas say. That singularity.
Copyright © 2003 Philip Gross All rights reserved
from Mappa Mundi
Bloodaxe Books / Dufour Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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Copyright © 2002, 2003 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002, 2003 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved