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Alien Love

by Nancy Ames

Old poets never smile;
they stare at us with
disappointed intelligence,
desperate to comprehend
our stupidity and blaming
themselves forever for
every motherless, howling
child engendered by their
absent-minded, wilderness-
wandering sperm, condescending
as a subtle but clinging
mist falling invisibly down
out of those white, amorphous,
radiant clouds that hover
here and there and move on
again, inquiring persistently
for someone they used to know
on this planet, and sometimes
their frantic, frustrated
searchlights burn circles
into the fields.


Author's Note: This is dense, taking the alien rumour metaphor to a surreal extreme.

Posted on 01/25/2008
Copyright © 2022 Nancy Ames

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 01/25/08 at 03:54 AM

I think you did a pretty good job by that. Well done.

Posted by Johnny Crimson on 03/11/08 at 11:44 AM

No need for the explanation. It is what it is. It's good.

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