DELAY Poem by Ester Naomi Perquin
DELAY
We are modern. It's not the right century for love and
there are no women anywhere standing on towers
looking out. The last knight
died of syphillis.
We have lost the knack of fluttering banners,
the whispering between the stones,
song and the names of flowers.
Hastily we toss each other
body parts in passing.
All is well.
Bolt these doors when it
grows dark. Stay with me.
Lock your horse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
2/21/2026 8:11:38 PM # 1.0.0
