Love in the Ruins 1 I remember my mother toward the end, folding the tablecloth after dinner so carefully, as if it were a flag of a country that no longer existed, but once had ruled the world. 2 7 A.M. and the barefoot man leaves his lover’s house to go back to his basement room across the alley. I nod hello, continuing to pick the first small daffodils which just yesterday began to bloom. 3 Helicopter flies overhead reminding me of that old war where one friend his life, one his mind, and one came back happy to be missing only an unnecessary finger. 4 I vow to write five poems today, look down and see a crow rising into thick snow on 5th Avenue as if pulled up by invisible strings, and already there is only one to go. 5 Survived another winter; my black stocking cap, my mismatched gloves, my suspicious, chilly heart. —Jim Moore
Posted on: Thu, 03 Apr 2014 11:56:19 +0000
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