April 7, 2011: Boston, Aaron Smith
Boston
Aaron Smith
I’ve been meaning to tell
you how the sky is pink
here sometimes like the roof
of a mouth that’s about to chomp
down on the crooked steel teeth
of the city,
I remember the desperate
things we did
and that I stumble
down sidewalks listening
to the buzz of street lamps
at dusk and the crush
of leaves on the pavement,
Without you here I’m viciously lonely
and I can’t remember
the last time I felt holy,
the last time I offered
myself as sanctuary
*
I watched two men
press hard into
each other, their bodies
caught in the club’s
bass drum swell,
and I couldn’t remember
when I knew I’d never
be beautiful, but it must
have been quick
and subtle, the way
the holy ghost can pass
in and out of a room.
I want so desperately
to be finished with desire,
the rushing wind, the still
small voice.
==
On this day in…
2010: How Simile Works, Albert Goldbarth
2009: Crossing Over, William Meredith
2008: The World Wakes Up, Andrew Michael Roberts
2007: Hour, Christian Hawkey
2006: For the Anniversary of My Death, W.S. Merwin
2005: The Last Poem About the Snow Queen, Sandra M. Gilbert
