Just when green leaves and bright songbirds arrive
A pert young god comes, too, decked out with wings
Plus bow and arrows. And though he shoots things,
They don't drop dead; they spring up more alive,
Strive, thrive, have kids their kind just might survive.
And since he wears a blindfold, his bowstrings
Twang the same tune for beggars, bankers, kings:
"May your pulse thump, your juices jump and jive."
"I need love like a black hole in my head,"
One young girl smirked. But just then Cupid's dart
Plinked her ear. Through a small opening fled
All thoughts she'd need nobody. "Let's just start
Checking for someone with the right-shaped heartTo fill this gap," wholeheartedly she said.
From "Not For Specialists: New and Selected Poems,"
by W.D. Snodgrass,
BOAEditions, Ltd., $21.95 (softcover)