The Best American Poetry

"As Romance Fails" [by Star Black]

As Romance Fails

Indolence fans the aqua pools
before lovers’ spats prelude dawn’s make-up sex.
A chilling sky ensues, as everyone fears love,
the great mummer of regrets. Yet,

not even trees control their destinies,
half-stilled by burlesque bees, bird-burdened.
Nor can they turn upright one fallen limb, languishing
as if lonesome. You, Richard, have grown,

a green sailor upon a mulched sea, closer
to love, to reality, to the seashells of woodbine,
the seraph’s tunes; and, soon, trust,

regret’s second cousin, will alarm you
with devotion: its rose-lilt fathoms, their glass eye,
enfolding bold écrivains who, far-flung, revive.

from the archive; first posted December 1, 2008. Photo of Star Black and Paul Violi above. Photo credit: David Lehman (1998).

As Romance Fails

Indolence fans the aqua pools
before lovers’ spats prelude dawn’s make-up sex.
A chilling sky ensues, as everyone fears love,
the great mummer of regrets. Yet,

not even trees control their destinies,
half-stilled by burlesque bees, bird-burdened.
Nor can they turn upright one fallen limb, languishing
as if lonesome. You, Richard, have grown,

a green sailor upon a mulched sea, closer
to love, to reality, to the seashells of woodbine,
the seraph’s tunes; and, soon, trust,

regret’s second cousin, will alarm you
with devotion: its rose-lilt fathoms, their glass eye,
enfolding bold écrivains who, far-flung, revive.

from the archive; first posted December 1, 2008. Photo of Star Black and Paul Violi above. Photo credit: David Lehman (1998).

As Romance Fails

Indolence fans the aqua pools
before lovers’ spats prelude dawn’s make-up sex.
A chilling sky ensues, as everyone fears love,
the great mummer of regrets. Yet,

not even trees control their destinies,
half-stilled by burlesque bees, bird-burdened.
Nor can they turn upright one fallen limb, languishing
as if lonesome. You, Richard, have grown,

a green sailor upon a mulched sea, closer
to love, to reality, to the seashells of woodbine,
the seraph’s tunes; and, soon, trust,

regret’s second cousin, will alarm you
with devotion: its rose-lilt fathoms, their glass eye,
enfolding bold écrivains who, far-flung, revive.

from the archive; first posted December 1, 2008. Photo of Star Black and Paul Violi above. Photo credit: David Lehman (1998).