The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Jacklyn Potter

THE GIFT

He arrived at evening with pink gladioli.
Stems clustered in his hand,
the stalks curved upward
a bright cobra spreading
through his atmosphere.

She brought the bouquet
to her lips in its fullness,
then touched his wrist.  At her window
a long blade of oak
tapped its way to barrenness.

At dawn, new petals
thin as tissue paper
raise their blossoms.
From a porcelain vase
they strike the air.


THE OLD BORDERS

Mouth near another mouth
In a miscellaneous universe;

Of all the spark plugs, wing nuts, star bolts!
One mouth closing in upon another,

Not merely for one tongue
To touch another here are

Two mouths in vast territory
Each moving toward a closed space opening,

As hungry as a prayer for the dying,
Mouths with ears filtering soft-spoken demands,

Trying not to hear parting
Sighs, tentative farewells, endings,

Broken vows, violated treaties, bombed truces,
The huge despair of nations

One rosy lip against another
A whisper for defense.