Pin It

A Poem: Poetics 

the voice of it turns another corner until coming to a dead end,
another started in its place, the replacement,
wearing the same mood, or maybe too much blue,
nevertheless escaped into the next day,
chased over fences and the moon’s routine,
not taking a breath, but needing more air for the marathon
the binding of divorced thoughts in which fingers
race to cool an engine overheated by lack of fuel,
there is myth here with wings and arrows but still no names are remembered
except the chasing of beauty by beard and sword, into the lap of conquest,
of strewn limbs and chaos,
outlasted choice is heard above all others but only in convivial whispers,
becoming receptive, warm, or cool, rejected by the page when it has had enough,
becoming white in full surrender

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Sue MacPhee-Gray.


Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Readers also liked…

Hudson Valley Events

submit event

Latest in Poetry

Hudson Valley Tweets