Poetic Interlude CXVI

Courtship

By Tyler J. Yoder

 

 

 

 

 

It was a foundation, and also a word, in the wickedest man I know,

A few drinks in the story of its birth.

I am far too small for answers, for an embrace,

For Art is white and cold, and will be many others,

Most lucid at playing the ancient games.

Lord, I remember the bartender,

The institutionalized uncle’s affair,

Our sordid lives that summer.

The kiss was blurry, on the fifth,

Less tidy than murder.

The flaws aren’t soft

When I am assaulted by forty years.

I am seething, waiting for jail.

I am looking for a month,

Or a love affair tres sérieux.

Tagged: Courtship, Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Romance, Tyler J. Yoder