Short Love Sonnets #22

Short Love Sonnets

22.

The abandoned orange grove at the time
Of evening when blue becomes a glow of bruises
When the abandoned new oranges darken
With foresight, their skins
will never be touched,
will become the isolated letters of alphabets,
that although intensely longing
to be a sentence
will never be conjoined to form a single word.
The angular almsgivers are
in other publicized groves offering
illusory paragraphs to
the au courant poseur paupers.
A flutter of evening light on leaves,
hidden, an oriole.


Duane Locke

Posted over on The Red Ceilings