The 2River View 19.3 (Spring 2015)

Robert Manaster

The Art of Being Intimate Strangers

At sunset, rising
From behind a massive cloud,
Shafts of honeyed light
Tone the blue above into
The shade of a lover's last kiss. Further,
There's a thinning outward of this light.
Even this moment begins to wisp: let go
Like a window curtain
Pulled back just long enough to see
A woman whisper to a man and their bodies
Snuggling into one
As they stroll by unaware.

In the Deep Recess of a Period

While nearby sway the dissonant
Leaves, a crow stiffens to a branch,
Uncorks towards strips of cloud
As shriveled as dried cherries. Look
At me. Here, I wish to be
Desired once more. Come here
Like the late summer wind that swells
The shade of a plum tree. Come near,
Come near. To sense your voice is like
Pressure of rain about to fall.

Robert Manaster is a poet and translator with co-translated poems in Hayden’s Ferry Review and Virginia Quarterly Review. His own poems have appeared in journals such as Image and Spillway.

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