Just a Peter Pan · The Art of Poetry

Kimberly Virga

2d • Feedback & Critique

Just a Peter Pan

Could this be my last glass of wine

Before you drain my body of its spring

I’m telescoping through lifetimes

And

In each one I don’t mean a thing

To you

But before I become unglued, Peter Pan

I will write the burial site of our love,

Buildings demolished, graves robbed

I want to tongue the gray ash of your face

And you were never half the man

But God have I mourned, God have I sobbed

I am notebook lines, empty, begging for a morsel

Of any of your time

Your thievery is elite

How one can be so cruel

Yet

Capable of great love

It batters my brain

But

Light the stake on fire, go ahead

Just be sure

You never again want to palm the soft hair

Of my head

I know it’s hard for you to keep yourself together

(in the east corner, cold, of my yard, I’ve buried your name;

Didn’t you know I’d go that hard?)

If you bled out on my kitchen floor,

I would wipe carefully, like cleaning out a womb

But instead you have jailed me, despite great love,

In your prison rooms

And I’ll wear your fatigues

And tell time by shadows on the wall

But confess to me now

That I never meant anything else to you at all

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The Art of Poetry

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Art of Poetry craft truth into rhythm. Find your voice, master imagery and form, write bravely, revise sharply, and turn life into lines that last.

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