Weekly Selection – Alex Smith

A History of Love

When we were connected
we developed like an X-ray.

I continually apologized
for those things about me

and believed such things worthwhile.
I decanted a bottle of wine and set about

seducing the truth out of you
and when you got away I promised

a divine plagiarism of sorts
that would weed out the myth

of your vagina. In passing I uttered
comments and then imagined myself

becoming you momentarily
only to find that I was you

as much as a tree trunk was a bead of semen.
Lovingly, you stayed honest the longest.

I was more like a videogame,
light fare, nothing truly astounding

about the way coffee tastes
in Old France, nothing astounding

about the Old Hotel in Chelsea
or the way I fuck quietly,

trying my darndest to communicate
some physicality I can’t understand.

(from Alex Smith’s Lux, p. 77)

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Filed under Alex Smith, Poetry

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