by Bobbi Lurie
yes he fled
sunk himself deep
dead to the blue ends of the divided
dead on a rock
exposing the bone as in the dark knight
the white knight turned dark
for life
for life
does it
red canal of muscular strength slit swiftly
and love so easy to lose
twitching with fear
the ripeness and readiness for death
almost automatic in our souls
knife tip held to our throats
and about human love i say
it is most always
a contradiction
in terms
Bobbi Lurie's fourth poetry collection, "the morphine poems," will be published by Otoliths this summer. She is also the author of "Grief Suite," "Letter from the Lawn" and "The Book I Never Read."
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