Sunday poetry is a new series beginning this Spring! Each week, I’ll post a poem that I’ve been thinking about, whether mine or someone else’s. Tune in for an exploration of how poetry can interrupt and enrich our lives when we least expect it to.
March 24: love week
Part of my poetry class is divided into themed weeks full of contemporary poetry. This week, it’s time for love poetry. I have the kids each write a break-up poem, and I show them some of my own love poetry and read my friend Noa’s poem, “Losing you makes me think of terrible Godzilla analogies and I wish I could explain why but I can’t.” I love love, obviously, and I think poetry is one of the ways to demystify love and yet keep it shrouded in roses.
Last year, I pushed my class to read this poem, but due to its evocative nature and erotic hints, it’s a little much for my new class to handle. But I do love it so:
Nothing exists in a vacuum,
Least of all that pale shade of pink
Perched at the corner of her mouth.
The color recalls grapefruit,
Freshly picked from new heights
Provided by the roof of her neighbor’s house.
How many hours did we stay there?
Lying on the shingles still warm with afternoon heat,
Trying to pick out the few stars in the sky
That escaped the harsh glare
Of driveway lights turning themselves on at dusk.
Tiffany Babb is a mixed-race, bisexual poet currently based in New York.
Happy Sunday; tell someone you love her.