Poem 350

Title is a wordplay of course … the metaphysical conceit of comparing an evanescent human experience to a worldly and common object and seeing where it takes you and whether you can make any sense out of it … perhaps I arbitrarily chose this particular correlative of love by looking at what was on the desk in front of me … see Poem 26 for a comment on the poetic addiction to comparisons …

An Elegy

Our love is like scissors
                        no it's not
                        but it's too late
                        I've started
actually our love is more like scissors
where the screw's given way
or with blunted edges
biting at life all gums with no teeth
mangling everything
paper scissors
stone
our love like scissors with one blade snapped
or both blades
so all we're left with is two rings
and a sort of exercise for the fingers