a poet deliberates on her lover's cliche

heaven will not
move through determination

nor earth shift
upon your insistence

beautiful man,
     if only i could wrap sure fingers
     around your offerings

        wear them like
        an amulet against the smooth
        skin of my wrist and
        gather myself more fully to your vision

but i am a poet
and see with different eyes

 i've suspended time
 beneath a birch
 to better memorize
 the frenetic voice of an eagle

 delved deeply in the textured scream of his dive-
       delivered myself
       like a trout
       to his talons

i've held static wind
in my grasp
just to absorb
it's insistent thrum

i've strangled the life
         from a perfect moment
         so i could later
         unclench and recount it on paper

a different sort,
we poets
rarely recant careful observation
 or detach ourselves willingly from a grand scheme

try as i may
i can not see
the bend of promise in your words-

or recognize an inexplicable
                  longing in myself

Reviews

[Leon R]

Interesting write. The way you structured it is great, adds something more to the overall picture. Good job.