May 9, 2013

The rainstorm churns inside the clouds. We watch the dance of branches and blossoms chart the wind. You say you’re thinking of leaving, you’re the only one here I feel close to, and the boughs of the willow fall like a beaded curtain over the earth. Don’t think I don’t know what poets have done with ovens, what soldiers have done with each other. But when there’s not much left to hold and we’re tired of getting older and starting over, we can press our backs into the grass and gather up the stars in our arms, if it’s a clear night. I don’t see why we can’t hold all the stars at once, if just a few clouds can hold a whole storm, lightning and thunder and all. Later, we’ll throw them back up there, like fish to an ocean.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing poem. Felt like a short story. Two people trying to figure out what is right and wrong. I like the use of the stars. You create good vision with good description. A perfect ending to a excellent poem.
Coyote