It’s the theory of your skin, fragrant
with sweat, fragile as you are,
so close to me on these rainy days,
that we dreamed of, like poetry,
or an étude that flutters through the emotional core:
strings of summer thunder and the
rich, deep smell of the soil, the delicate wonder
at the chords which blush in the
softest silence, as we hear ourselves changing…

Later we sit around the table suspended in the twilight air,
and eat our bread with the honey which drips
through the trees.

Previously published in Penne Ante Press.

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Matthew Gasda is a poet living in New York City. His first book The Humanist is available through Literary Laundry Press. Matthew’s “The Humanist” and “To Hart Crane” are also in Reprint.

Object(s) to bring back to life: “The typewriter, the heyday of psychoanalysis, jazz clubs”