}} Adagio: Desdemona, Unabridged |

Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










Adagio: Desdemona, Unabridged

Othello, when the hours pass
where do they go     and why

so impossible to bring them back?
My pulse once played a sonata

at the thought of your plush lips.
Daybreak would rush its herald

and knowing I would hold you
garnished every moment. What else

could I ask, given the quiver of troubles
Life keeps at the ready?  How did Iago

bind your blood with his blather?   It
didn’t matter what anyone said.

I only knew your touch, a soft rain

soaking a spring field.  Eventually,
my father would understand

that, when played against love,
all insults are but a fly’s busy wings.

Finding myself: a new season
in your eyes—with the hours willing

to wait on us—was the perfect world.
Which of your stars    made you such a fool?
 
 
 
← Tim Seibles