It is not the moon, I tell you.
It is these flowers
lighting the yard.
I hate them.
I hate them as I hate sex,
the man's mouth
sealing my mouth, the man's
paralyzing body—
and the cry that always escapes,
the low, humiliating
premise of union—
In my mind tonight
I hear the question and pursuing answer
fused in one sound
that mounts and mounts and then
is split into the old selves,
the tired antagonisms. Do you see?
We were made fools of.
And the scent of mock orange
drifts through the window.
How can I rest?
How can I be content
when there is still
that odor in the world?
How can I rest? How can I be content when there is still that odor in the world? //Happiness and natural desire of life all are in the loving fragrance that agitates the inner soul; lovely poem penned
I hate them. I hate them as I hate, the man's mouth sealing my mouth, the man's paralyzing body very good poem facts of life. tony
Each to their own I say! Personally I enjoy it but at a deeper level I really don't know why I enjoy it. I am driven by my libido that's all I know.
Well done! What a great take on , love the scents I felt like I could almost smell them.
Excellent honest poem based upon the reality of everyday. Enjoyed much!
Well, what odor? The smell of war or the masculinity she can't stand? A real 'guess-what-where' is this simple poem. Still a 5 Star full score! I really enjoyed this 'guess it' poem.
Great ideas I experience from this very small poem my dear friend Louise Gluck.