Comment on this article


Nothing Real is Owned
by Kay Weeks

It’s true for me that everything I own
Will gather into grief and tear and stain.
My flat, compacted time, a course that’s run—
With sureness such as this, who could complain?

Small rivulets of tears create a flow
So swift it moves desire a mile away.
And everything that’s sweet I came to know
Is sucked to bottom, quietly to stay.

But yearning cripples fear and I come back
To blossom in my heart’s deepest recess,
As love ignites, moves up, slips through the crack
Like some internal power that’s born to bless.

If I must name ten things I’ll really miss,
My list would start and end with your sweet kiss.


Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]