The Taste of a Shy Smile

I have been told I can post no more "downer" poems between now and Valentine's Day. Problem is, I think, looking hard at his recent few years, he has written a lot of them. The upside is, with his level of productivity overall, there's plenty else to choose from. Like this one.

The Taste of a Shy Smile

sliding by
the sky
we touch on
several planes
in wavelengths
beyond violet and red.
the past is dead
and serves
the purpose
of conduit
to deliver
us
to this moment
suspended
between what was
and what is possible
which is
everything
yet to be explored
not ignored
like opportunities
for joy
by cold and craven players
in fading photographs
and memories.

I know things
that toe rings
and a hint of jasmine
can't communicate:
fate and hate
are not sibling or regent
and we prevent
our own happiness
in cowardice
and a curious logic
that begs the tragic
refusal to love
because we know we are
unworthy
but that doesn't stop God
or poets.
and the taste
of a shy smile
should be immortal.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.