Survival by John L. Stanizzi


Autumn bees
heavy on goldenrod
must know what we know
as they work that
easy industrious sway
toward the inevitable dark
this humid October day,
a gasp held in,
a breath released,
red falling everywhere,
clouds pinning us down,
30 second downpour,
and thousands of ladybugs
answering the fall heat,
engulfing the house,
lifting it away
to where nothing
weighs anything —
it’s all passion;
insects birds leaves clouds;
it’s the way you feel
when you make love —
not small or large
but perfect,
alone and singular
the two of you.

by John L. Stanizzi

Editor’s Note: The title of this poem weighs the surreality of the imagery down, allowing the reader to connect what might be light with what is real and weighty (yes, that was a complicated way of saying that not all love poems suffer from an excess of sentimentality).


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