Friday, June 21, 2019


Display tables stacked with books,
Brightly printed paper bricks,
Were romances, regardless
Of how they were classified,

Since, like romance, they tempted
A body with the promise
Of joy, possession, new love,

A greater satisfaction
In the anticipation
Than in the acquisition

Of one more forgettable,
Flammable weight on the back,
On the shelf, in the chest, peine
Forte et dure, yet again.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.