Romance in a Time of Rockets

Gareth Lee

We suffered largesse, a bombardment
citrus light and a taste of burned

roses, sandalwood blooming in air
pockets whereas from these

pockets come two shocks of levity,
eruptions sacrilegious: origami

churches made of pages, ripped mass
hymnals, serrations so much like

glass bits in our flesh. The pain it is
grace, God laying a broad gray

persistence that emanates its illnesses
in cirrus lesions throughout the sky. . . .

While the metallic, chemical rain has
slicked down our hair and we said

worry about terror and not ourselves
and, rain-witch, your hair is light

Gift

This one, savaged, is revelatory, is
disclosing her tangled enclosures:

• •

So I disavow my affection as I am
overcome by affection, even
accepting what silken swelling
the hematoma (of slow blue)
has infused in her pigmentation

• •

These ribbons, these blue-black
that bedeck the pigmentation

• •

“me, I’ve never been so happy”
Spoken like a spell to keep away
disaffection that sends along
my axis convulsions. Slow blue
convulsions, gorgeous and livid

• •

these that don’t discolor the truth,
the complexion of the truth, at all

Back to top ↑

Sign up for Our Email Newsletter