Poetry Issue 5

   Issue#5: July - December 2005

Alex Gregorio


A Love Poem


      In this way sick
      on top the tree
      is what I always wanted.

      In this way when a tree
      inexplicably makes danger
      and horribly becomes a tree
      is the exciting thing.

      Put your hand on my forehead
      as if it were my own hand.

      In this way being always
      what I wanted in sickness
      your hand now says:

      on your forehead
      I am inexplicably the tree:

      in this way I am danger
      understood as if by your own hand
      necessary and exciting.