Sunday Night in the City - with Sharon Olds
April 18, 2018
Sunday Night in the City
Hand in hand we lie on the bed
our edges blend
our long legs crossed like folded
white swan
wings, our long feet touching
pressing against
footboard in the shadow, carved like a headstone
the love epitaph fills our open mouths
with grapes, your hair is ruffled, dark
such soft darkness
black as walnut, curled like tendrils
wrapped around our dreams like
vines, your right hand is in my right
you reach forward offering an open
hand, my left hand in your left
inseparable we move as one
arms linked like skaters; we lie
green and hopeful
under the picture of farmland; brush
fires spread
dark and blurred as smoke, trees
those familiar strangers like little death mongers
lifting their ashen fish skeletons
like stories we held
and central to it, over us
diving deep into
the calm pond
We held our breath
Silent as if eternal
*New lines written for the poem Sunday Night in the City from Satan Says by Sharon Olds
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 18
Based on the prompt to write a poem coupled with lines from an existing poem
Based on the prompt to write a poem coupled with lines from an existing poem
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