Ono no Komachi
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Imagine thinking of a man’s love like
The petals and the fragrance of a flower
As it is wilting, or a white love spike
Compelled from pale gardenia’s dying hour.
You might well feel that way about his love.
You know too well how soon he falls asleep
When he has filled you with it while above
You in your bed or his. His thrusts are deep
To nail it in your darkness where no light
Will reach, where only nightmares ever reach.
His love you know. It blossoms like a blight
As if implanted in a prophet’s speech.
The graveyard in you has its tombstones full
Of doubted memories. Death will do the cull.
~ September 1, 2025
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