Terse Protestations About Love

By H.L. Hix

(After Sonia Manzano)

1

Last frost past, I planted want
among the pitchpeas and crested squash
and Tentativity beets.  I wanted what
the heavens forbade, because they forbade it.
I bore the bucket back and forth,
despite my sense that thirst
tested me most, not this obstinate seedwaste.

2

How could I not wish now
that she had loved me then
a little more, a little less?
I could have imagined the worst
had I understood better.
Of what use is one love unless
to anticipate a next?

3

Here.  Hold to your ear this that I have held to mine.
Expect nothing.  Except you hear a sea.

4

Why not name it creosote instead,
or chrysalis or incarnadine?
Think what declarations might follow,
what pledges prove possible.
I am cinders and whiplash.
Braced against what gust soever,
I assent to any season you assert.
Bless you, blood-red bird dead in snow.

Advertisements
Categories: Issue 5, Poetry | Leave a comment

Post navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: