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  • #197705
    Tift
    Participant

      My Lover Is a Woman
      Patricia Parker
      .
      .

      I.

      my lover is a woman
      & when i hold her
      feel her warmth
      i feel good
      feel safe

      then—i never think of
      my family’s voices
      never hear my sisters say
      bulldaggers, queers, funny
      come see us, but don’t
      bring your friends
      it’s ok with us,
      but don’t tell mama
      it’d break her heart
      never feel my father
      turn in his grave
      never hear my mother cry
      Lord, what kind of child is this?
      .
      .

      II.

      my lover’s hair is blonde
      & when it rubs across my face
      it feels soft
      feels like a thousand fingers
      touch my skin & hold me
      and i feel good

      then—i never think of the little boy
      who spat & called me nigger
      never think of the policemen
      who kicked my body & said crawl
      never think of Black bodies
      hanging in trees or filled
      with bullet holes
      never hear my sisters say
      white folks hair stinks
      don’t trust any of them
      never feel my father
      turn in his grave
      never hear my mother talk
      of her backache after scrubbing floors
      never hear her cry
      Lord, what kind of child is this?
      .
      .

      III.

      my lover’s eyes are blue
      & when she looks at me
      i float in a warm lake
      feel my muscles go weak with want
      feel good
      feel safe

      then—i never think of the blue
      eyes that have glared at me
      moved three stools away from me
      in a bar
      never hear my sisters rage
      of syphilitic Black men as
      guinea pigs
      rage of sterilized children
      watch them just stop in an
      intersection to scare the old
      white bitch
      never feel my father turn
      in his grave
      never remember my mother
      teaching me the yes sirs & ma’ams
      to keep me alive
      never hear my mother cry
      Lord, what kind of child is this?
      .
      .

      IV.

      & when we go to a gay bar
      & my people shun me because i crossed
      the line
      & her people look to see what’s
      wrong with her
      what defect
      drove her to me

      & when we walk the streets
      of this city
      forget and touch
      or hold hands
      & the people
      stare, glare, frown, & taunt
      at those queers

      i remember
      every word taught me
      every word said to me
      every deed done to me
      & then i hate
      i look at my lover
      & for an instant
      doubt

      then—i hold her hand tighter
      & i can hear my mother cry.
      Lord, what kind of child is this?

      #197873
      Tift
      Participant

        Natalka Bilotserkivets is a Ukrainian poet, editor, and translator.
        .
        .

        Love in Kyiv
        by Natalka Bilotserkivets

        More terrible is love in Kyiv than
        Magnificent Venetian passions. Butterflies
        Fly light and maculate into bright tapers –
        Dead caterpillars’ brilliant wings aflame!
        And spring has lit the chestnuts’ candles!
        Cheap lipstick’s tender taste,
        The daring innocence of miniskirts,
        And these coiffures, that are not cut quite right –
        Yet image, memory, and signs still move us…
        Tragically obvious, like the latest hit.
        You’ll die here by a scoundrel’s knife,
        Your blood will spread like rust inside a brand
        New Audi in an alley in Tartarka.
        You’ll plunge here from a balcony, the sky,
        Down headlong to your dirty little Paris
        Dressed in a blouse of secretarial white.
        You can’t discern the weddings from the deaths…
        For love in Kyiv is more terrible than
        Ideas of New Communism: specters
        Emerge in the intoxicated nights
        Out of Bald Mountain, bearing in their hands
        Red flags and pots of red geraniums.
        You’ll die here by a scoundrel’s knife,
        You’ll plunge here from a balcony, the sky, in
        A brand-new Audi from an alley in Tartarka
        Down headlong to your dirty little Paris
        Your blood will spread like rust
        upon a blouse of secretarial white.
        .
        .
        .
        translated by Andrew Sorokowsky

        #198641
        Tift
        Participant

          Insomnia – Elizabeth Bishop

          The moon in the bureau mirror
          looks out a million miles
          (and perhaps with pride, at herself,
          but she never, never smiles)
          far and away beyond sleep, or
          perhaps she’s a daytime sleeper.

          By the Universe deserted,
          she’d tell it to go to hell,
          and she’d find a body of water,
          or a mirror, on which to dwell.
          So wrap up care in a cobweb
          and drop it down the well

          into that world inverted
          where left is always right,
          where the shadows are really the body,
          where we stay awake all night,
          where the heavens are shallow as the sea
          is now deep, and you love me.

          #199381
          Vaughan
          Moderator

            If you’ve lost a pet, chances are you’ve heard of the Rainbow Bridge.
            This bridge is a mythical overpass said to connect heaven and Earth — and, more to the point, a spot where grieving pet owners reunite for good with their departed furry friends.

            The Rainbow Bridge by Paul C Dahm

            By the edge of the woods, at the foot of the hill
            Is a lush, green meadow where time stands still
            Where the friends of man and woman do run
            When their time on earth is over and done

            For here, between this world and next
            Is a place where each beloved creature find rest
            On this golden land, they wait and they play
            Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day

            No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness
            For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness
            Their limbs are restored, their health renewed
            Their bodies have healed, with strength imbued

            They romp through the grass, without even a care
            Until one day they start and sniff at the air
            All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back
            Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack

            For just in that instant their eyes have met
            Together again, both person and pet
            So they run to each other, these friends from long past
            The time of their parting is over at last

            The sadness they felt while they were apart
            Has turned into joy once more in each heart
            They embrace with a love that will last forever
            And then side-by-side. they cross over together

            #201858
            Vaughan
            Moderator

              My Faithful Valentine
              by Kelly Roper

              You’re a little unkempt,
              And you snore like a log.
              When I give you your dinner,
              You gobble it like a hog.
              You’re hard to keep up with
              When we go for a jog,
              But you’re the one I love
              More than Paris or Prague.
              So my Valentine is you,
              My dear faithful dog!

              #202109
              JessiCapri
              Participant

                The path set by yesterday’s ground, is gone
                And that of tomorrow, is uncertain
                All that is certain is that which is under your feet
                Now
                One step, in front of the other

                Standing still is an option, but that does not mean that the world around you will stand with you
                Because it won’t

                The walls may fall away
                and all the people leave
                and change
                but the homefire will still burn
                bright in your heart
                and in your minds eye
                ’til the time comes
                for its light to guide you home

                And you’ll know it at once
                for all who gather
                will greet you

                and know you
                by name

                ~Tara Shannon 2021

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