but don't we all think about it
when shadows grow long---those lost chances
fluttering away like wild molting birds
into somebody else's sunrise?
That kiss not taken.
No longer offered, either.
That one last arch of the back
before sighing, 'No more, this night'.
I have entered the Invisible Forest.
Flowers, men turn their eyes towards
the sunshine of taut bodies, pert breasts.
The Fountain of Youth gurgles just
over the rise and stampeding feet
trample past for one final gulp.
All around me the bulls are dying, but
why weep for what can't be undone?
My face is flushed, my hands empty.
Prufrock hands me his peach.
Pris Campbell
(c)2006
(poem in progress)
5 comments:
Thanks, Ellen. I posted this on my MySpace blog and got tons of comments. I was beginning to wonder if anybody was ever gonna notice it on this blog:)
Pris stands alone
On the deserted beach
And dares to eat
One final peach
hi g
It's high time SOMEBODY ate that darn thing. Prufrock's been obsessing about it for years now!
I like the direction this is going in. The first line is perfect.
Thanks. As you can see, it still sits while I ponder, though I have made a few nits since posting :-)
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