Ain't No Cure
I slice oranges in the kitchen.
The countertop worn, notched
with the story of the knife.
I've been reading Ovid's "The Cure for Love."
You circle my waist with your arms—
kiss the back of my neck.
I remember who we were—
the taste of us sweet and dangerous─
the girl and boy on the front porch
cooling our heels on our way
to the grave.
We believed we could make something
in the dark.
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Comments about this poem (Ain't No Cure by Rishma Dunlop )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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