A Cargo of Green Hearts
~POEMS~
friend, don't be alarmed
when I write of the blue bells of the chest, of the dead, of the layered sea and the weeping. I am chock full of salt you say, marred and alone as the moon's face. there was a time when I only recorded joy but could not escape from a paper box. the sorrow, you see, is a map. at one end is death and my task, my only task is to teach death to live. it's not enough to walk by the lilies nodding. there must be a story of how the silvered stars flung their knives and cut; how the rain tenderized the craggy earth, how someone's beloved left no trace. no story, and all you are is a lousy tourist: you'll leave town before the secret celebration. Comments are closed.
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Poetry LogPoems are posted here when I'm ready to share them. I often don't title my poems. The date you see above the poem may be the date it was posted here and not necessarily the date it was created. To see more, click on the Archives below. Archives
January 2020
CategoriesUnless otherwise noted, all content ©Paul-William Gagnon, Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-NoDerivs license.
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