Poetry Friday


It’s rained every day since you
Went away. I’ve been lonely,
Lonely, empty, tenderness —
Longing to kiss the corners
Of your mouth as you smile
Your special, inward, sensual,
And ironic smile I love
Because I know it means you
Are content — content in French —
A special, inward, sensual,
And ironic state of bliss.
Tu es contente, ma chérie?
I am, even if lonely
Because I can call to mind
Your body in a warm room.
In the rainy winter night,
A rose on the hearth of winter,
A rose cloud standing naked,
In the perfume of your flesh.
Moi aussi, je suis content.

— Kenneth Rexroth