Mock
At the core of desire
a woman stops and turns
and says I waited for so long
it's not my age we laugh
I say you aren't the face
you say I'm not the heel
the fruit eventually ripens
a pomegranate splits in two
a little light gets through
the moth mocks the flame
all burns bright for a day
and the sun sets with a puff
later the dust is scattered
the world opens and shuts
we eat the blood and bone
wow, this is wonderful, Rob!
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear Efi. This little poem with the odd title might have rhymed more (or less), it might have been longer (or shorter), it might have been happier (or sadder), and it might have argued better (or worse) against the dust of the world and the death of love. It didn't. And it wasn't.
DeleteGreat poem, Rob. Love the metaphors.
ReplyDeleteThanks, mate. I am enjoying your poems here very much. But this is kind of curious, isn't it? I'm an American who finally settled in Australia in the 80's, while you're an Australian who went to live in Texas. Anyhow, a fine day we will both surely look forward to, when Trump finally gives his awful withdrawal/farewell speech, and which in an ideal world should probably coincide with Pauline Hansen's.
ReplyDelete