by James B. Nicola

The Word devoid of ration,
the Moment sparked with must
fired up by holy passion:
you are already lost
when he is half your age,
she, married and devout,
instructor at college,
co-worker, student . . . Hot.

Your corporal spine, so weak,
makes moral sense stay strong.
Thank goodness for the mind
that lets the greeting pass:
Don't look Don't Touch DON'T SPEAK!
But neither knows how long
you'll last remaining kind.
Tomorrow looms, alas . . .

© 2009 by James B. Nicola



About the Author

James B. Nicola has been published in a score of journals, over fifty poems so far. A stage director by profession, his book Playing the Audience won a Choice Award.


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