Academy of American Poets
View Cart | Log In 
Subscribe | More Info 
Find a Poet or Poem
Advanced Search >
Want more poems?
Subscribe to our
Poem-A-Day emails.
FURTHER READING
Poems by Josh Bell
One Shies at the Prospect of Raising Yet Another Defense of Cannibalism
Related Poems
Green Sees Things in Waves
by August Kleinzahler
Shanked on the Red Bed
by Susan Wheeler
The Night Ship
by Timothy Donnelly
Poems About Difficult Love
A Love Song
by William Carlos Williams, read by Ron Silliman
Amorosa Erranza
by Julian T. Brolaski
Anna, Thy Charms
by Robert Burns
Be Near Me
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Caboose Thoughts
by Carl Sandburg
Conspiracy to Commit Larceny: A Recipe
by Jennifer Militello
Demon and The Dove
by Miguel Murphy
Designer Kisses
by Major Jackson
Dregs
by César Vallejo
Enemies
by Dante Micheaux
He would not stay for me, and who can wonder
by A. E. Housman
How Much?
by Carl Sandburg
I Am Not Yours
by Sara Teasdale
I Do Not Love Thee
by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
I have lived in your face
by Jean Valentine
I know I am but summer to your heart (Sonnet XXVII)
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I'm A Fool To Love You
by Cornelius Eady
Last Words to Miriam
by D. H. Lawrence
Love
by Katy Lederer
Love in Fantastique Triumph satt
by Aphra Behn
Love's Secret
by William Blake
Loving and Beloved
by Sir John Suckling
My Love Sent Me a List
by Olena Kalytiak Davis
Never give all the heart
by W. B. Yeats
Not
by Sophie Cabot Black
One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop
Opal
by Amy Lowell
Passer Mortuus Est
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Pericardium
by Joanna Klink
Poetry Anonymous
by Prageeta Sharma
Prayer
by Robert Glück
Red and Blue Planets
by Joni Wallace
Renouncement
by Alice Meynell
Sometimes with One I Love
by Walt Whitman
Song of Myself, XI
by Walt Whitman
Sonnet 102 [If no love is, O God, what fele I so?]
by Petrarch
Sonnet 12 [Alas, so all things now do hold their peace]
by Petrarch
Talking to Patrizia
by Kenneth Koch
The Barrier
by Claude McKay
The Flight
by Sara Teasdale
The Heart Breaking
by Abraham Cowley
The More Loving One
by W. H. Auden, read by Nick Laird
The Peace That So Lovingly Descends
by Noelle Kocot
The Unloved to His Beloved
by William Alexander Percy
They Romp with Wooly Canines
by Patricia Smith
They Were Not Kidding in the Fourteenth Century
by Maureen N. McLane
This Deepening Takes Place Again
by Emily Kendal Frey
To A Sea-Cliff
by Thomas Hardy
To Electra
by Robert Herrick
To His Coy Love
by Michael Drayton
UTOPIA: Love as Free as a Fountain
by Joe Hall
What Do I Care
by Sara Teasdale
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Sonnet XLIII)
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand
by Walt Whitman
Witch-Wife
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
[I Failed Him and He Failed Me]
by Katie Ford
Sponsor a Poet Page | Add to Notebook | Email to Friend | Print

Our Bed Is Also Green

 
by Josh Bell

Please speak to meonly of the present
            or if you must            bring up the past
bring up only that
which you and I
            don't share. I know            this is a selfish
thing to ask. Yes, as Ihave often
            remarked, shore lunch            at hanging rock
was lovely. Yourhair and mine
            stayed put. Later on            we didn't, as we
do now, pull it fromeach other's clothes
            as if for final proof            that we've been
sleeping with each other. In the glorious
            picnics of the past            we simply knew
such things. The rockupon which
            we sat, ran beneath            the lake, and was
the same rock wewere both looking
            over to the other            side at. I almost
felt, believe me,as if we were
            two people. Person,            I nearly could
have said, hold on.Instead, I used
            the name we had            agreed upon. Not
your fault. A nameis useful, it helps
            with the blankness            I am sometimes
feeling in regardsto you. I apologize
            for saying this            out loud. You are not
the blanknessI am speaking
            of. Plug your thought            or daydream
into me, and theyor I will often
            fail to light. You are            beginning to see
what I mean aboutthe past, how I,
            despite my facility            with pliers, and eye
for detail, may notbe suitable. What was
            your name? I am            not kidding. What comes
will run us throughfrom the front, we
            pull our way            down its length
if only to see, at lastwhat has ahold
            of the spear-grip.            Therefore, the future,
as a topic, is sadlyalso out. Instead, let's
            cast the deep side            of the weedbed
together. The lakeis black, like slate
            we scrape across            with paddles toward
the weedtops,sticking up, like alien
            flags, above            the invisible
settlements, the castleyou've dropped
            your hooks            inside of. I love
how destructiveyou are with the fishes,
            so go ahead            and bring your war
against them, Ramona,against the duck,
            against time,            against any things
that swim. Our fiber-glass canoe is of
            burnt orange;            our shapely hooks
of shining gold;our giant rock, also
            somewhere in the lake            beneath us, is
the bottom, towardwhich the minnow,
            lip-hooked, dives            after the lead,
its weight a thingthe minnow seems
            to follow, as if            we sent it dropping
both for what we hadto give away and still
            we didn't want            the lake to have.






Copyright © 2010 by Joshua Bell. Used with permission of the author.
Larger TypeLarger Type | Home | Help | Contact Us | Privacy Policy Copyright © 1997 - 2014 by Academy of American Poets.