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   g e n e r a l l y

--- L E O N A R D   G O N T A R E K

What good is the fire? The bread is good too.

The bird should be an inch to the left.

How will we know what is there to run from

with nothing spreading out of control?

Running into the arms of those running the other way.

Clothes laced with scent. Damp smoke.

Some who have given up cigarettes long ago.

Doesn't the pop song doesn't the crude matter of pop

if not eventually transform, equal gold?

Stand alongside passion. Strangers partnered.

One husband with another's wife at the

beginning of an obligatory dance.

The petals outside now that you think of it

fall like ash with sound as wind sways

it into piles. Now it seems

it has always been of ash.

Aren't the sparks beautiful?

You have to admit that drifting erratically in the dark,

moments before you conclude

rightly it is your roof your

house. You calmly remove the

phone from its cradle

hold it there in your

hand for too long.

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published in association with the |
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