This is my latest poem, still in progress…
Love
And what is it?
What is this?
The glow of a cigarette
falling to ash
in the dark?
No
no
no.
It’s a fire fly before
a thunderstorm
the cat’s eyes
before a fight
it’s the lit fuse
on a stick of dynamite
a solar flare, uncurling its baby
fist in the dark
It’s what we’re mesmerized by
before some sweet disaster,
and the horror and the sweetness
of what comes after.
annaquon 