Today is a love poem (or an anti-love poem, whatever the hell that is), which is harder than it might seem at first glance, at least if you’re going to be original in any way. Here’s my entry. If the title is confusing, say it aloud a few times.

Mime Is Tress Yser

Your eyes are brown like
your hair which curls like
your voice around a word
you love, a laugh, like one
of our cats around an ankle
at breakfast. Like the way
you curl into my back in bed,
absorb my radiant heat,
like I was the sun and you
the coral in warm ocean,
crowned by wires of rose light.
Heave of your breath onto
my shoulder, creak of footstep
on floor, perfumed voice
calling to cats, to me.

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Published by Brian

I'm Senior Poetry Editor of The Rumpus, as well as a published poet. My first book, A Witness in Exile was published in 2011 by Louisiana Literature Press.

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