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Only Everything

Ken Pobo

When we kissed the sky didn’t look
like Gleason in The Honeymooners.
Come to think of it, we both

resemble Jackie now except
that he’s dead. Alive,
we’re remembering tithonias,

a bold orange light
shown right in the moon’s face—
it’s only love, it’s only everything,

it’s only new bulbs
we snug in before
the ground freezes.

Tagged: Issue Two, Ken Pobo, poetry, Spring 2013

April 18, 2013