the promise

for laura

 

 

 

I promise

to not use the excuse of light

just to display various images of

Shangrila, where life

approaches perfection.

Let's just leave perfection

to the biting cold

or plumbs

or little shark babies

or that unbroken, curving

line that the half-moon glues

together with guesswork and

incantation.

Least we call

you perfection as you

circulate in my blood like

a whiskey sour

of ceremonious bow.

If elected shamrock, the

yellow flowered old world

clover, I promise you

the lake and all its differences.

As the conglomerateur;

 

the accomplished gods

of winter.

Reviews

[barton smock]

strong, but not showy. love the last, and the shark babies. which are most likely similar. thanks.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are so good...

the imagery is perfection..

i really like the "or" lines...

i just can't give you enough...you want the moon, i'll lasso the moon...as george bailey said.

this is love to the nth degree...and so beautifully poetic..

jacob

[Emily B]

it may be for laura, but i hereby declare this my new favorite of all the favorites

How do I love the flow of this poem, it reads so beautifully from beginning to the end, your vocabulair is impressive, (for me as a Dutch) much to learn, as I felt all so warmly... excellent poem.

E.L.

[Corset]

A beautiful tribute, Dana, may you find and have every happiness.

[Circe]

i feel your words as pure emotion... an understanding, a realism in the departure from perfection... the interweaving with season, winter, cold, it is felt throughout, even in the language.. how the words are shorter.. they flow like catching a breath after each thought... that line "I promise you the lake and all its differences" just completely moving... water and emotion intrinsically linked.. and its nature is to be changing, never staying the same.... although on the surface so constant.... you're amazing.