Before I Meet My Love, I Met My Love

By ARAN DONOVAN 


wait for me. you have perhaps
been out there and married unsuccessfully
to several ladies. you’ve been maybe
like a feudal lord a little
gluttonous with your helpings, have gulped
up overly life’s rations of love and suffering.
ah well. they are delicious.
I come a little late to the whole shebang,
having wasted substantial time
watching grasshoppers
and reading old books. have acquired,
by way of dowry, an excellent recipe for
roasted chicken, some knowledge,
some philosophy, and a few tricks
(non-rhetorical) of the tongue.
we’ll see about that later. I too
am a little tired. a little wind-bit.
but if hope is a thing, it’s coiled
like a kiterope in my stomach pit.
are you waiting for me? let’s
get on with it

 

[Purchase Issue 15 here.]

Aran Donovan lives in New Orleans. Her poetry has recently appeared in Hobart, Juked, and Barnstorm Journal and is forthcoming in Permafrost. She tweets sporadically @barelymarigny. 

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Before I Meet My Love, I Met My Love

Related Posts

Map

By MARIN SORESCU trans. DANIEL CARDEN NEMO
If I see the ocean / I think that’s where / my soul should be, / otherwise the sheet of its marble / would make no waves.

A sculpture bunny leaning against a book

Three Poems by Mary Angelino

MARY ANGELINO
The woman comes back each week / to look at me, to look / at regret—that motor stuck in the living / room wall, ropes tied / to each object, spooling everything in. She / comes back to watch / what leaving does. Today, her portrait / splinters—last month, it was only / askew

Aleksandar Hemon and Stefan Bindley-Taylor's headshot

January Poetry Feature #2: Words and Music(ians)

STEFAN BINDLEY-TAYLOR
I am sure I will never get a name for the thing, the memory of which still sits at a peculiar tilt in my chest, in a way that feels different than when I think of my birthday, or my father coming home. It is the feeling that reminds you that there is unconditional love in the world, and it is all yours if you want.