though love be a day

this poem is not:
that red
red rose, or a summer’s 
day, or some weird 
wild ecstasy over a Grecian 

it’s not walking 
in beauty nor on the road 
less taken 
or through some 
godforsaken woods 
(in snow, or otherwise). 

it’s not counting 
the ways 
or the breaths 
or the deaths of burning 

it’s fresh out of 
(and plums)
and kingdoms by the sea
and ways to carry a heart 
(kinda gross, if you think it through). 

this poem’s really not sure 
what to do,
except sit in the corner 
(somewhat creepily) 
stare at you. 

In April, we poem. today is day 20, and I am tired.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to though love be a day

  1. Clever and profound… cool too!

Use your words.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.