30 March 2009

Most of the Twentieth Century and Practically All of the Twenty-First

Making love while bombs fell
Our narrow patch of floor
And dirt drenched blankets
All walls trembling as we
With shock and awe
Lamps swinging though not exactly wildly
In the age of “It’s just like a movie”
Not much like a movie at all
With Thanatos and Eros in the front row anyway,
On the glare horizon, cities burning.
Overhead, just above us here, cities burning.

Some other family’s heirlooms
And knick-knacks and trash now
Burned and dirty and water-damaged
Rarely worth even cursory scavenge
Just more things to walk upon
To kick aside to make a space
To make a space for dirt drenched blankets
To make a place to spend the night
And make love while bombs fall

2 comments:

  1. beautiful and 'it's just like a movie' but moreso because poetry can be.
    behind such trembling walls they are the sun, sea, a river to each other and what is tender yet in the world. amor vincit omnia and all that.

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