Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.


We will be stones
which have fallen
from the bank of loneliness
to the river of marriage,
smooth stones
shorn of our stubby shields,
the river mortar and pestle,
each moment a soft
rubbing of rapture,
a wearing of self
until only the river remains.
Jeff BurtJeff Burt lives in Santa Cruz County, California. He has work in Thrice Fiction, Star 82 Review, and Mobius: Journal for Social Change.

Categories: Poetry

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1 reply

  1. Lovely flow and extended metaphor.

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