Of a Gentleman Poet

[tainted_naiad]

10.22.09

You dream of being one of those dead poets
Resurrected but once a year
As heavy-lidded eyes stare out the window
Watching the dying leaves fall
Your ghost will turn their pages,
Your voice a dry rasp on their lips.
Elaborate posturing about your intent--
"He only loved women in pearls;
It says so on line thirteen."
And for the rest of your life,
You'll only drink bourbon the color of her eyes.