The Highest of the High

I tried to sing of politics and stuff

Like that, the serious matters I’m supposed

To write about. But that was not enough,

No, not enough at all. I reached out, closed

My laptop, and employed a fountain pen

To make me set down those much deeper things

And maybe even Plato’s thinking. Then

I tried to sing of war, and God, and kings.

At last I learned that I am meant to write

About—and set down only—beauties of

The sizzling sort. My single-minded might

Swells, pulsing, when I capture sweat-filled love.

So now I choose the highest of the high,

The shape of shoulder, arm, and lolling thigh.

 

by phillipw | Apr 22, 2019 | HI | 2 comments