The stillness you prize.
Won’t prize you back. Two beefsteaks.
Ripening on a windowsill. A purple tray.
Piled with coal. From the field.
Of solemn brothers calling.
Your name in unison you learn.
Men are irrelevant but.
Persistent symmetries are not.
Become the many-roomed house.
You walk through in dreams. Show me.
On the great blue door where it hurts.
This is the season where grace.
Is the likeliest. Where the uttermost.
Angels heavy our galaxy with.
Their sound. A silver ring.
Lost in the bedsheets is still.
A silver ring. You can either be.
More holy or more full but.
Not both. See how the hot.
Element glows red. How.
Honey cools the tea. Suppose.
There was a reason for it.
Suppose there wasn’t.
© Kaveh Akbar 🔒
Some other random works of this poet:
- Despite My Efforts Even My Prayers Have Turned into Threats
- My Kingdom for a Murmur of Fanfare
- Being in This World Makes Me Feel Like a Time Traveler
- Against Vanity
- Tower of Babel
- River of Milk
- Against Dying
- Exciting The Canvas
- Forfeiting My Mystique
- Orchids are Sprouting From the Floorboards
- Pilgrim Bell
- I Wouldn’t Even Know What to Do with a Third Chance
- Waiting for the Twelfth
- Look, the Human Is Shrinking
- Portrait of the Alcoholic Floating in Space with Severed Umbilicus
- The New World
- A Boy Steps Into the Water
- Reza’s Restaurant, Chicago, 1997
- Ways to Harm a Thing
- What Use Is Knowing Anything If No One Is Around
- What Seems Like Joy
- Morning Prayer with Rat King
- The Perfect Poem
- No Is a Complete Sentence