Sweet As If

Sweet As If

 

Come Fall, I’ll be in the house behind the

bush of white and violet lilacs. I’ll taste

peaches, sweet  as if they were in season.

 

Come, Fall, and I’ll remember cicadas’

lace wings, and how quickly clouds dissolved in

August. And standing in pachysandra,

 

(or was it poison ivy after all)?

letting the yellow butterflies fan me.

I won’t forget the cluster of mushrooms

 

on bark, a slightly lighter shade of brown,

though I can’t remember now how they felt

between my fingers. I’d have lingered there

 

with him, weightless, waiting for something to

say… about grasshoppers, or the movies,

or how funny it is… that if you look

 

too long at a photo, a grin becomes a

grimace. How funny that I wanted him

to stay, to wait with me for the sweet night-

 

ingale that sings me into song when the

night is hot and sleep is irrelevant.

 

How funny that I neither sleep nor sing.

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

This one catches you in the moment... the imagery is well thought out... in the lines... the first two stanzas set this into pace... and the rest just accents this verse...

[Relic]

Nicely done. I like the use of enjambment in this as well as the tactile descriptions. Was there any particular reason for night ingale or did it just fall naturally that way? Good poem.

[Baban.A.A]

hello first. I have to admit this piece was very well written, I very much liked the description and conffesions you kind of mixed together, the way I understand it might be different but grin becomes grimace, nor sing nor sleep these are suggestions and signs of death coming ot disaster which turned good to bad, happiness to sorrow, etc. all in all very well, and best luck