Violet Swords

By Stephen Sturgeon Stephen Sturgeon
It was a matter of wearing gloves well
while lunching, while conquering Dubrovnik;
of, no one would care how, evading Hell.
Diverse employments made gentlemen tick:
Christmas turkeys; circulating trophies;
pedestal stacked upon pedestal. Today
silence has come to see what no one sees,
it’s always grim at the start of the play.
Fellows, who wait à propos their intros
clawing at the panels, such shrill tigers,
thrive unthreading the hems of the heroes.
Friends of our late friend are minor-leaguers
never to be called up but good as types,
people who will hook bras to the flagpole,
bake chocolate for a gray stranger  ...    She wipes
away red records of the stocks you stole  ...    
Yesterday, books were thrown from the third floor,
out the window, they sank in pairs like shoes,
and I watch violet swords on a white shore,
blade-tip laid across blade-tip, where it snows.

Source: Poetry (June 2014).


This poem originally appeared in the June 2014 issue of Poetry magazine

June 2014
 Stephen  Sturgeon


Stephen Sturgeon is the author of Trees of the Twentieth Century (Dark Sky Books, 2011).

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Poems by Stephen Sturgeon

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SUBJECT Living, Life Choices, Time & Brevity

Poetic Terms Rhymed Stanza

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