Poetry of the Month

Aubade

Indomitable spirit of youth and society high
Though only one year under me
He wasn't awkward but instead a
Tawny- haired prolepsis who
Weakened me for disuse.

So I glistened, half-interestedly
As crazed dictators in slippers prayed
And screamed on television.
All the while I thought of you
You who were always so reserved
In a cramped downtown apartment
Because I could not you
I led him, I possessed him.

Because I opened to my beloved
And my beloved was there
But fearing the finite, brushed away the words
And touches like smoke.

You now burning cautiously in a faraway state
Talked of art while I quieted
The cell phone screaming,
Slipped out at dawn.

-V. E.

The Swing

In a garden, made of pink flowers and stoney paths
There stood an old iron swing taken from
a cartoon school yard, somewhere in Japan.

Two seats hung from a red bar,
I leant against the chained rope and pressed my face
To feel the hot metal dipped in sun

Side to side, I drifted alone on the left seat.
Then suddenly, seeing a passing bee in flight
I took to the sky
Gliding.

You ,younger and more sensible lay on the grass
Playing with marbles that you had carefully collected.
But some passing god, fired a sun beam into my shiny swinging seat
And for a moment the refelction blinded you –

You looked around irritated; only finding: ‘me and my swing’
But what a Sight!
She seemed so free and uncommonly peaceful, surrounded by blue.
You ran over and watched me mesmerized.
I had – you noted – such enormous eyes.

“Excuse – me” – you shouted, “Can I join you?”
I tried to slow my speed and you grabbed the gleaming hot rope to help me back.
“Hello” – we both said at the same time. And I Smiled.

You boarded the seat to my right and we rocked back in forth like a ballet exercise.
I was one leg, and you the other. We stopped at 2nd position.

“Lets swing together I said” and I held out my hand .
You took it and you sqeezed it tight .We went high and then higher.

But soon…our arms grew weak and you tried to withdraw.
I didn’t want to let you go. Silly gir! – I heard you say
Unfortunatly your smaller hands gave in, and having lost touch with my swinging seat, I fell down almost 15 feet.

You ran away terrifed, thinking me dead. But when my mother came to wake me,
My limbs were in tact -
I only felt the pangs of regret
And tears announced the end.
Of that…

L. King

We won’t meet eachother Again

We won’t each other again on this earth:
this is what the summer bonfires,
field of sunflowers
              and the corncob say,
a mild autumnal sun-fire
reminds me we won’t meet,
we won’t cross again on this earth.

I won’t meet you while travelling
but will desire you
in the blood-red of a rose
and maybe in the verdigris of spring-rain,
during a night of feverish love
or in a leaf, always remembering
whilst looking at the white trees;
remember me or forget me
but bethink:
   souviens-toi que je t’attends.

Andy Bedorin (self translated from the Italian original)