Auguries of Sinnocence

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Hold on to grains of sand (through microscopes

Or otherwise).  Hold on to little things

Because they are — and not mere mystic tropes

In seers’ minds.  If little facts have wings

Like Luna moths, then all the better for

Religion (if you need that kind of thing).

You do not need a shimmering, endless shore.

The hour itself will do.  No emerald king

Is needed.  No.  The man beside you in

Your bed is all the yearning you will need,

His hairy parts to lead you into sin,

His forty million sperms in spouting seed.

  They go in tiny places, in a womb

    Or in a mouth.  The tiniest things bloom.

© Phillip Whidden