libris.ro

poems by Robert Beveridge

Awaken in Darkness

 

Sunday morning. We

had gone to sleep in the promise

we’d awaken in two hours,

spend the early darkness

immersing one another in the untold

pleasures of hotel-room bed

mornings. My eyes open,

and you are there, your face

relaxed in sleep, small smile

arising from your dream. You wake

at my touch. We are sore, but eager:

hours stretch before us, languid,

pregnant with the promise of sweat,

exertion, delicious heights

of dizzy lust. Only after our first

kiss do we check the clock;

the pulled shade lied. Instead

of two hours, we’ve slept six,

and the day prods us to begin

it, get up, shower.

Not yet;

we have stolen this morning

together, as we must sometimes;

we can push the day, its insistence,

back a while. Come here, my darling,

let’s pretend it’s four AM.

 

 

 

The Diver

 

The homeless population

decreases as pot roast

and maggot-ridden roadkill

decay in landfills.

 

Like raccoons, the homeless

always wash their food

before consumption

 

even if it’s only

in the muck-strewn Delaware

 

 

 

Tea

 

the world’s bitter dregs

mingled with a few sharp leaves

dribble from the teacup

of the universe

crumbs fall

drops on the table of god

 

like all cracked cups

it must be discarded

a new one used

when company

comes to dinner

 

after fevered love

the recent combatants

desire a pot

of liquid calmness

 

as as woman pours

from kettle into pot

one lone drop spills

onto the table

libris.ro%20

1 Comments

  1. Pingback: EgoPHobia #51 — sumar | www.egophobia.ro

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *