Today's poem is by Kathleen Winter
Cuomo's Important Failures
This moment, this very sensation,
must be what drives people to crime
or at least pornography.
I can almost imagine the state of mind
I want to have, but don't, can't.In a sleeping bag
on the floor of a dorm room,
hearing, for the first time,
Blue, Joni Mitchell's lyrics
lurid with futurity.
Then Brecht, then the anorexic saints,
the Marxian critics making my parents
so nervous at Christmas.A welter, a tangle, a bramble of longings
that don't abate in the later decades,
just become marginally more repressible,
slightly easier to bulldoze with focus.I recall my philosophy professor
reading aloud "Musée des Beaux Arts"
as he tried to seduce me,
his wife and baby at home
in what must have been a too-small apartment.What lust drove him to approach me
was it only novelty, or can we finally agree,
across the long years, on tonight's despair?
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Copyright © 2022 Kathleen Winter All rights reserved
from Colorado Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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