Canapés

John Jenkinson

Am I come to this, a starker age
When I relinquish mirrors, their bevels, their beauties,
Their scars, their parties full of the loveliest
Strangers-their ghastly, unknown solitary? 

Am I now less than my vision?  Risen like smoke
To the ceiling, floating around with the gossip, dear,
Struggling to find myself-and who in the crowd
Will look for me beyond the chandelier? 

I cloud, an abstract, hazy-blue suggestion.
Beneath me, the wine passes, and the canapés
Glisten on their polished silver barges
Like small answers to a larger question.

Donate to 32 Poems. We are a nonprofit tax-exempt organization, so you'll save on your taxes with every donation!

Risk-free offer! Subscriptions to 32 Poems are only $12 for one year (to U.S. addresses). Click the button below and we'll start your subscription right away. If you don't want to continue receiving 32 Poems after receiving your first issue, write us to cancel. We'll cancel your subscription right away. Visit this page for international rates.

content © 2003, 32 Poems Magazine, Ltd. All rights reserved.

Masthead   View Various Issues