Some of the Things We Lost
The intact original drinking cup we chanced
on in a thrift shop, and the ticking clock
that really goes. And the odd lots, like Volume
Two of somebody’s Collected Works.
The minuet that played while we were out.
The three-course meal we never ate. The day
from Heaven falling and the rising tide
at the flat shore. The breeze that lifts the corn.
The book of poems. The slow orbit we
performed around each other. And the valve
in our red hearts. The fingers’ dance. The bright
city of reason, with its neon lights.
Poetry Forum
A friendly, well established poetic community for both aspiring and seasoned writers of poetry.
