Red. Green./A Poem

Saturday, May 1, 2010

She was wrong to think
that his reading one poem
once, decades ago, on the borrowed
third floor of a dreamer’s house,
was an indication.
Wrong to think that he would
read again, or want to,
or ask her to dance,
and mean it, or care
when she said, This book
is for you.  It wasn’t,
he didn’t, he wouldn’t, though
twenty-seven years later
he sliced the red meat
from a tomato and lay it into the sweet
anchovy salt and eighthed
an avocado.  The red
and the green, he said.


Beth F said...

Lovely poem and I want to come to your house for a summer lunch. I plan to spend the day in the garden.

Maya Ganesan said...

Beautiful and powerful, as always.

Inkgirl said...

Lovely, poem, Beth

grete said...

Beth -

Dress in Red next time, then perhaps..... :-)


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