Bitter Brown Sugar

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

If you could twirl his heart, you would, or spin

It like a moon knocked out of orbit, wound

It in the process like an angel’s sin

Beside the throne of Christ, the sphere thrown, swooned

In desperation like auroras.  Poles

Would act as spikes to torture him in place,

That place where hearts like his would suffer holes

Enough to kill him with your envy’s face.

The others never mattered.  Let them rot

From blue eyes downward.  Let them gasp away

Unnoticed.  Turn them all to one small clot.

Let Dante turn them all to hellish whey.

  You’ll laugh like screaming then and polish scars

    Inflicted by your jealousy in stars.

October 18, 2025