The Trike Returns:
Knot
Janet I. Buck
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A Letter to Paul
You're nearing 50 now.
Rifling through a box of pencils,
desperate for Cupid's dart.
Lay your chest hair
to the frost of singles bars
and any bridge you think
might lace that journey's end,
tie the shoes of inner bliss,
knot them for eternity.
Every night a maple branch
beats against the window pane.
Spell it either way you want.
I'm captured by your shadow talk
in cyberspace italicizing aching hole.
Love is cotton, never wool.
It floats, not grates.
It frees, not seals us off from wind.
Think of it this way:
you put a screw in a cloud
or pulse or steam --
attaching just ain't possible.
Moisture has to land itself,
cover earth in shaving cream
of unexpected winter snow.
~Janet I. Buck
Janet Buck is the author of four collections of poetry. Her work has recently appeared in PoetryBay, The American Muse, Artemis, and dozens of journals world-wide. Website and what's new. Email.
© 2002 by Janet I. Buck. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated August 31, 2002.