But Neruda is Dead (salt air off the harbour)

Neruda

But Neruda is Dead (salt air off the harbour)

If I were Pablo Neruda
I suppose I’d compare
this salt air off the harbour

in the night to the scent
of your breasts sweating
above me in the moonlight

and the sweat to the dew in
the grass of the headlands we
move on among pale wild roses

and their bristling stems all
in tangles to the moments
we’ve knotted off from our lives, from
our lovers. But Neruda is dead.
And it’s the tide coming in.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Harbour, John MacKenzie, New poems, Pablo Neruda, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, The Sea and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to But Neruda is Dead (salt air off the harbour)

  1. Pingback: The Hypothetical Sonnet (a note on playing with the form) | Mumbling Jack

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