A poem a day in April from Rutgers English PhD students and friends.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

19, 20

I’ve always loved the word cleave
for the way it both clings and
splits and so suggests that these
are the same, which must be love:
our separateness in our
togetherness. Face and vase.
But my last name means clover.


A string of gorgeous days like
this makes me uneasy. This
isn’t California and
we might have to pay later.
Walking weather and clear views
for miles, how I’ve waited for
you, how little I trust you.

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