Today's poem is by Dana Curtis

Temple of Solitude
       

Fiercely lit and unloved
by the black boughs and fire-
flies, I am no longer what
promises intuition and so many
freshly picked orchards. I feel
the world's variety, all the human
particulates like a star
map sealed in a green bottle
then tossed in some forgotten
waterway. The ships wind around
each body; they wonder about
the underwater cafés.
I think about them too: they are
my invention and will be
my salvation. Silver water
holds everything that was
promised except love. Look:
these are the ungentled birds,
oxygen deferred. Abalone
table set with each pearl
of darkness: I wait
for the seaweed dust,
living night of lonely drink.

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Copyright © 2023 Dana Curtis All rights reserved
from Asheville Poetry Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission