Wednesday, April 11, 2012

NaPo #4

Yeah, I know.



Kissing Tolstoy, a Brave Act

Today the trees rustle like people in hell,
every leaf a broad hair on Tolstoy's chin and lip


You have a third-class ticket to the afterlife
and the legend bends down for the buss.


Tiptoe to reach him and remember all
those lovely words sent to die in the ether

when he goes or when you go. Tell Turgenev
and Dos to back the fuck up. He's your man,

Sonya and your grip on his short hair
is tighter than comfort would normally allow

but this is no ordinary marriage and after the kiss
I look into your eyes and feel myself desiccate.


The wind takes me east and west but never north
I am air and wind and sun and rain all at once

as I disappear into a wave of butterflies.

1 comment:

  1. I just stumbled upon your blog, and I am thoroughly enjoying reading the poems you've posted here. I look forward to reading even more!

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