You can’t use the word “longing” in poetry anymore…

Only Bread, Only light

But leaves fall 

They whirl under street-lamps

“Death’s butterflies”

As my friend Jarkko

Called them—and

He’s gone now.

Try talking about life

Without clear desire

Also known

As tenderness—also

Called yearning

Aching, pining,

And for what?

The day held meaning,

We felt accomplished, 

We swept up the children’s hair.

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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