Gavotta-choro

By Carolyn Cheng ’24

i wonder if the fig Piccioni swallowed whole
pulsed in strums of Gavotta-choro, fast-fading,
slow cascading hues of a summer too soon
 
and if Jesus taught sweet syconium to brush a lover’s cheek,
then i can stare at broad-framed backs for hours on end,
to love is to package marmalade in glass and twine although jam stays good for only so long,
farewell
 
to the last sunday of August when the wheat was gold and grating,
and you spoke the pacifist into lovemaking --
only children play with their food so i’ll kiss guitar juice into your swing set --
the craving we deserve is the abstinence of God and fruit pie
you pry
an orange peel from my lips with a spoon
and i sprout fig into fiber into
filament, you try to teach
peace to the thorn in my side but poems,
my friend,
are futile --
 
i wonder if Piccioni spoke desire into arpeggios,
and if the daisies craned their necks in quiet desire
to watch halcyon slow to a stop.