Maxine, back from a weekend with her boyfriend,
smiles like a big cat and says
that she's a conjugated verb.
She's been doing the direct object
with a second person pronoun named Phil,
and when she walks into the room,
some kind of light is coming from her head.
Even the geraniums look curious,
and the bees, if they were here, would buzz
suspiciously around her hair, looking
for the door in her corona.
We're all attracted to the perfume
of fermenting joy,
we've all tried to start a fire,
and one day maybe it will blaze up on its own.
In the meantime, she is the one today among us
most able to bear the idea of her own beauty,
and when we see it, what we do is natural:
we take our burned hands
out of our pockets,
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Comments about this poem (Grammar by Tony Hoagland )
- But we are one, gajanan mishra
- You are my sweet lovely heart, Mazid S Kazi , INDIA
- I am the time, Aftab Alam
- The one who is blessed by the God is su.., Dr.V.K. Kanniappan
- Angel, Asit Kumar Sanyal
- Malaria, hasmukh amathalal
- The life we have lived, Goodenough Sakhile Dlamini
- At our will, hasmukh amathalal
- See the fishes, hasmukh amathalal
- Two Become One, Loide V Augustinus