Al Fresco Cafe Poems #159
When the skin is scrutinized close-up,
It can be known the skin is watermarked,
The vague, almost invisible design is a
Comma, a cinema, and a cross.
But its visibility is concealed by a wrist watch.
The watermark has a memory
And wets the numbers
And wets the tick-tocks or silence.
This moisture that oozes up from the design
Changes skin to cloth,
The cloth is cut and stitched into a uniform.
So lovers hold each other’s uniform
As they stroll through arboretums.
All alternatives are crushed by altars.
View all poems by Duane Locke
It can be known the skin is watermarked,
The vague, almost invisible design is a
Comma, a cinema, and a cross.
But its visibility is concealed by a wrist watch.
The watermark has a memory
And wets the numbers
And wets the tick-tocks or silence.
This moisture that oozes up from the design
Changes skin to cloth,
The cloth is cut and stitched into a uniform.
So lovers hold each other’s uniform
As they stroll through arboretums.
All alternatives are crushed by altars.
Duane Locke
View all poems by Duane Locke