WEBVTT

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Now before the grim
Scottish finale,

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I'll just read a handful of
love poems, or at least poems--

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yes, they're love
poems, I think.

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This is a sonnet.

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And it's about chasing the
last of the day's sun, a love

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poem trying to stay
out of the shadows.

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"Abandon."

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That moment when the
sun ignites the valley

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and picks out every bud
that's green that afternoon.

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When birds spill from the
trees like shaken sheets.

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That sudden loosening
into beauty.

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The want in her eyes,
her eyes' fleet blue.

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The medals of light on
water, the way the water

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intrigued about her feet.

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The ocean walking her
out into its depth.

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Sea lighting the length of
her, from the narrow waist

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to the weight of the breasts.

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The way she lifted
her eyes to me

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and handed me back simplified
that moment at the end,

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knowing the one I had
abandoned was myself.

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Edging with the sun around
the bay's scoop of rocks.

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Rolling the last
gold round the glass.

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That shelving love, as
the sun was lost to us,

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and the sky bruised, and the
stones grew cold as the shells

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on the beach at Naxos.

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