The Highest of the High
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
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.
