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Alicia Ostriker
Kenneth Ryan
Gary Corseri
Timothy Liu
Claudia Grinnell
Craig Chisholm
Diane Wakoski
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Romance
abandoned couch potato deprived of the news when the local judge had his cable cut
missiles televised in green night vision navy seals caught in a tide of cease and desist
his plaint all sprezzatura lacking technical finesse his body milked for lush sonorities
as prelude to illicit love or was he just another sexually-dysfunctional porn addict oh
to have been a meat-market has-been no longer looking for top billing only to bottom
Romance
Bodily need unmet where touch surpasses want as one reverberates all day
from the unremembered dream. Monuments wanted for every passing
moment—a pigeon balanced on each bronze wing of an angel overlooking
an anonymous grave. If we die, we died with our eyes on, the romantic said.
That's how palpable all should have been on earth as in the mind. Wordless
conversations that shaped us unannounced. The two of us standing there
with dust in our throats, two freight trains uncoupled at last. As if awaiting
judgment every moment of our lives, we who had lounged in bed with voices
burning like winter sun across the sea on which we sailed. He who sings
no more once sang to me, nurtured slow on lullaby, chords of troubled peace.
Timothy Liu is the author of six books of poems, most recently Of Thee I Sing and For Dust Thou Art. Read more at: http://euphrates.wpunj.edu/faculty/liut.
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