Notes on the Tragic Life of Lovers

by Gary Percesepe

for Delmore Schwartz 

We Poets in our youth begin in gladness;

But thereof come in the end despondency and madness ~ Wordsworth


Then give me your hands

Here! place them together

Juliet and her Romeo

Poets rehearse the story

Of birth, migration


Sad conversation

Turned into the stone of history


The burnt match, the handshake

The cough, the kiss

There is always a wicked secret

Some private reason for this

Where lovers lie like scissors close

Severing boredom for

A month at most