Friday, April 16, 2010

Poem of the Day: April 15th


Forty years after the last poem
burned on the altar of atonement
for the sin of having written
like a girl, she stands before
a crowd of welcoming readers
writers like-minded poets.
Rusty voiced she tells of
doorkeepers with feet
seven armlengths long
who keep paparazzi at bay.
Dead quiet room.
Next she reads a tale
called Unrequited Love
that sears the air with
violence and Amazonian
resistance. Applause.
Bolstered, the red-crested
poet carries on with fare
suited to the palate of
this blood-thirsty claque
feeding them with fugues
obsessions, and thwarted
The poet and audience
are sated.
We finish with the one
with violets in her lap.

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