Misgivings
by William Matthews
'Perhaps you will tire of me,' muses
my love, although she is like a great city
to me, or a park that finds new
ways to wear each flounce of light
and investiture of weather.
Soil does not tire of rain, I think,
but I know what she fears: plans warp,
planes explode, topsoil gets peeled away
by floods. And worse than what we cannot
control is what we could; those drab,
scuttled marriages we shed so
gratefully may augur we are on our owns
for good reasons. 'Hi, honey' chirps Dread
when I come through the door, 'you are home.'
Experience is a great teacher
of the value of experience,
its claustrophobic prudence,
its gloomy name-the disasters-
in-advance charisma. Listen,
my wary one, it is far too late
to unlove each other. Instead lets cook
something elaborate and not
invite anyone to share it but eat it
all up very very slowly.
by William Matthews
'Perhaps you will tire of me,' muses
my love, although she is like a great city
to me, or a park that finds new
ways to wear each flounce of light
and investiture of weather.
Soil does not tire of rain, I think,
but I know what she fears: plans warp,
planes explode, topsoil gets peeled away
by floods. And worse than what we cannot
control is what we could; those drab,
scuttled marriages we shed so
gratefully may augur we are on our owns
for good reasons. 'Hi, honey' chirps Dread
when I come through the door, 'you are home.'
Experience is a great teacher
of the value of experience,
its claustrophobic prudence,
its gloomy name-the disasters-
in-advance charisma. Listen,
my wary one, it is far too late
to unlove each other. Instead lets cook
something elaborate and not
invite anyone to share it but eat it
all up very very slowly.
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Date: 2010-10-09 02:23 am (UTC)From: (Anonymous)Thanks for posting this!
Date: 2010-10-10 05:54 pm (UTC)From: