TWO LOVE POEMS
Posted: December 19th, 2010, 11:48 am
SMOKE
in the secret night
alone with your slim cigarette
you have already forgotten me
except for anger
your last elixir
there is no body, only temper
a way of bending the air
like bending the smoke from
your lips, across the room in
a single skein, it loses momentum
as it reaches the book I gave you
you are warm and safe alone
in the dark blankets and I
am stretched out and dreaming of your mouth
but I cannot dream how you are using it
HEALED AFTER INDIA
You healed yourself of me
of my outbreak
with uncommon speed
with unseemly technique
you have done it before
on three continents
the serifs of other tongues
flapping around you like a cloak in the wind
the curry, the bright yellow
beaming across the flat,
sky-filled field, the ox bent slow
under the muddy plow.
The holy man blesses your lips, your feet
ankle deep in manure.
You are on the plane an hour later
recovered, kindness intact
gravel is then kindly spun under your tires
against my parking lot tears
soon there is no more pursuit
a happy turning away, god again in your pocket.
--ZLATKO
in the secret night
alone with your slim cigarette
you have already forgotten me
except for anger
your last elixir
there is no body, only temper
a way of bending the air
like bending the smoke from
your lips, across the room in
a single skein, it loses momentum
as it reaches the book I gave you
you are warm and safe alone
in the dark blankets and I
am stretched out and dreaming of your mouth
but I cannot dream how you are using it
HEALED AFTER INDIA
You healed yourself of me
of my outbreak
with uncommon speed
with unseemly technique
you have done it before
on three continents
the serifs of other tongues
flapping around you like a cloak in the wind
the curry, the bright yellow
beaming across the flat,
sky-filled field, the ox bent slow
under the muddy plow.
The holy man blesses your lips, your feet
ankle deep in manure.
You are on the plane an hour later
recovered, kindness intact
gravel is then kindly spun under your tires
against my parking lot tears
soon there is no more pursuit
a happy turning away, god again in your pocket.
--ZLATKO