|
From Lucasta, on your going to the wars (edit)
by Stephanie KentThe grass scraped my legs
as fear, iron-limbed,
droned over my head,
piercing the clouds.
I hid my collar-bone
with my hands, covering
that part of me that is left
naked when not clothed
by your touch. I buckle
beneath the muttering
of those engines that mar
the sky like the scratch
on my cheek-bone from
the nail in the door-frame
that I keep meaning
to remove. You would have
clutched me more gently
than the world. I will harbor
what belongs to you
in me, until you come
to draw it out again. 03/13/2010 Author's Note: A revision of an earlier version.
Title inspired by Richard Lovelace's famous poem, "To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars."
Posted on 03/14/2010
Copyright © 2024 Stephanie Kent
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlotte Smith on 03/15/10 at 01:26 AM From the imagery to the structure, I'm thoroughly impressed by this poem. |
| Posted by Paganini Jones on 10/03/10 at 08:44 PM What an absolutely excellent, well crafted POTD! How could I have missed this before? An immediate favourite. |
|
