Poetry Featured in Persimmon Tree
Six Tiny Poems: Was it Lilacs?
Dear Readers:
I’m pleased to share a poem that was featured in Persimmon Tree’s Spring Edition. As you’ll see, the selection is really six tiny poems that make up one poem called “Was it Lilacs?” Thanks as always for your continued readership. I welcome your comments. — Suzanna
Six Tiny Poems: Was it Lilacs? 1) Was It Lilacs? Was it lilacs outside the window of your bedroom on West Street? Was the window facing south? Was there really a soft breeze floating through sheer curtains, carrying the scent of the purple flowers? Or did I imagine it all this way? 2) Were the Neon Lights Pink? Were the neon lights from the deli on West Street flashing pink through the window of my apartment, two blocks down from yours? Or was the sign fluorescent yellow? Was it snowing when you knocked on my door saying you’d heard I needed a couch? Was I blushing when I invited you in? Or did I imagine it all? 3) Was There a Green Couch? Was there a green couch in your bedroom on West Street, or was it blue? Did you mean it when you told me you loved me, or were you saying what you thought would convince me to open myself to you, right there, in that moment, on that couch. Was the window open or closed when I said yes. 4) Was It Summer? Was it summer when we stumbled into the photo booth in the deli across the street from my apartment, kissing in front of the camera, still flushed from the heat in your bedroom in the apartment on West Street? Is that us in the tiny pictures or a memory of other lovers we knew long ago? Was the deli smoky and mysterious or am I imagining it all? 5) Did I Fall to the Floor? Were those phlox outside my mother’s window when she told me about your accident? Was it July? Did I fall to the floor in disbelief, my heart still loving that version of you, the one on the green couch on West Street twenty years before, you who were so tender, so cruel. How could I feel such pain for your suffering even after all this time? 6) Did I Imagine It All? I am sure it was lilacs, the smell so sweet and strong, coming through the window of your bedroom in the apartment on West street, steam rising off our young bodies, summer heat heavy as we entwined. The scene has faded. Was it us? Was it lilacs? Did you ever love me? Or did I imagine it all?
This takes my breath away . . . the poignancy, the pain . . . .
Very nice. Well done