Adage My eyes see unapproachable things-- but is first glance always correct? Don't judge a book by its cover is something I repeat over and over so as to connect with unorthodoxly remarkable things. For me, it's a tall, odd man who brings desires I then collect until my heart takes cover-- this friend who could be lover, but in retrospect, he must remain an unapproachable thing, for the unreturned love only stings till I am a wreck-- a wordless, warped book that can't recover from a man as close as a brother too hard all through for my love to affect, so to keep my heart from aching for things, I must judge a book by its cover. Perseus In one Gorgonian instant she returned to preengagement apathy for me. She says she'll do without me easily, without this hero's heart, so softly scorned-- confusion petrifies its cavity. I'll readjust? That word, it's only for couples therapy, but not our score. Consensual dissolve and not this war (serpents whispered slander in her ear) ideally would be a better way. She was once my emerald-eyed savior, a god I'll unremember. Now I weigh all brutal options, leer, and lope away, a played mate who lost to one who turned a part of me to stone, without a stir.
Marc Darnell is a custodian and online tutor in Omaha, Nebraska, and received his MFA from the University of Iowa. He has published poems in The Lyric, Blue Unicorn, Shot Glass Journal, Impspired, The Road Not Taken, Rue Scribe, and elsewhere.
Grand Little Things 