Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Pretext
Awais Aftab

I wish I were such a poet
who could conjure poetry on request
not just any request
- a love poem,
not of growth pains of relationships
or everyday delusions of intimacy
- a poem of tenderness
long-distance heartache
an I-love-you note
a blow-me-a-kiss
perhaps I could, but
the rose is obsolete, WCW says
(ask me instead to quote Neruda, my darling
'I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees.')
In the warmth of our embrace
we no longer need the pretext of poetry
and so it would seem
poetry no longer needs the pretext of our embrace

1 comments:

HER said...

Pretext

I wish I were such a poet
Who sang you those lines
That would make you want me
Like a moth thirsted its light.
A madness you would give me
This thing called love.

I wish I were such a poet
Who sang you those lines
Loosened, you would slip into me
Like pearls off a broken string.
I would be filled with you
Even if it was for a while.

I wish I were such a poet
Who sang you those lines
Where each curl of my uttering lips
Opened that inner door kept closed.
You would long to clasp my soul
And died if you could not.

I wish I were such a poet
Who sang you those lines.
Where you stayed mine forever
Just to drink from such words.
And drunken you said you loved me
Because my poetry was your pretext.

I wish I were such a poet
Who sang you those lines.

 

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