Blush
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Three thousand sonnets, thereabouts, he writes
But then three plums with blush and underglow
Come into his existence. Smooth skin lights
Up more than poetry. The plums forgo
Mere artistry. Three thousand poems then
Are set beside persimmons regal in
Their topaz orangeness and so again
The sonnets lose perfection. Topaz skin
On ovals wins. The sonnets go on through
Their website but with understanding now.
They kowtow to the little fruits. Their coup
Is total. Poems make their graceful bow.
..Elliptic colors started up this crush.
….The coup d’grace, though, was that softest blush.