Corner stone, ways to use them: manganese
on the eyes, again—it’s too difficult to find
you, keep you. Tundra to the left, and my

self far behind. The young are so much
more forgiving, finding something
different than my fabricated world, break into…

Orange glimmer against the branches
of some wooded landscape, lying on weeds.
Sensation stuck somewhere between

bursting like a water balloon and wishing
the alien hiding in the stomach would
tear through already. You’ve got the fortune

of a Kennedy, the limelight of a killer—
and that’s when the realization–torture
of not being in your arms, not being able

to sink into night, finding what really matters,
fills to the brim. Here, take my hand and don’t play
truth or dare the way I played Houdini. Bring me

bundle bouquets of anemone and lavender–herbal
paths to ward off fading starlight on the leaves. It’s
a dangerous way to live, but it’s the only way we know…


2 thoughts on “Anemones

  1. it’s difficult to write an original love poem. probably every day there are at least a million love poems written. but this one uses fresh images and language to create a very moving experience: “Here, take my hand and don’t play/
    truth or dare the way I played Houdini.” the last three stanzas are so personal, so direct and lovely.


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