The gods have no choice
but to let us live a little—
they would die for comedy.
You and I today, we're like bad actors
in a black and white Fellini movie.
If you can't show red, why bother filming?
The scene where the boys undress
and color the river with sex
is useless, like bloodletting.
And the pistons of the heart, the heart—
aren't pumping fast enough
to let us feel this thrashing.
Begging for It
Four Way Books
Copyright © 2013 by Alex Dimitrov
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission