Sunday, June 22, 2008

This is only one

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I meant to do my work today,
but a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
and a butterfly flitted across the field,
and all the leaves were calling me.
~Richard Le Gallienne


Summer Sends You Sun


Summer sends me a bouquet of sun, seven sacred flowers
picked at dawn. I walk backwards into the night before and
place them in a vase for today, which will not arrive until

tomorrow. I will rise to find beneath my pillow seven petals
bearing your name. You will be my wife for seven minutes
and never know. We will raise a family by the third minute,

spend the rest of our happy lives in the remaining four. I will
die first and you will mourn me, my widow. I will never see
the tender suffering at your window for I will have returned

my eyes to the stars. I shall instead lay my light upon the hand
of your youthful skin as the night visits in its way. You will savor
the days left you and think of me sometimes as I do now of you.

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Morning will make its moony dew and call softly to your feet,
sing dearly for you to dance through noon. Soon, soon. I will
stream to Lesath because it is there. You will stroll in Luzern

because you are there. I will have no need of bones or wings;
you will roast peahen and peel red potatoes. Bells will bronze
your bread and I will still be dead. Summer sends you a bouquet

of sun, do not run, do not run. Seven flowers picked at dawn
and you will yawn, you will yawn. For there are many summers

yet to come and this is only one of some, one of only some.


Joseph Gallo
June 19, 2008


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2 Comments:

Blogger Kyle parried...

Great work, Joseph. I especially love, "for I will have returned
my eyes to the stars." That's inventive and universal, and beautiful.

July 04, 2008 10:28 PM  
Blogger Joseph Gallo parried...

Thank you, Kyle. I always appreciate such favorable praise from so good a poet as yourself.

July 05, 2008 11:30 AM  

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