Anti-Romantic Ghazal
You eye me sideways, as if you mean to say to me,
“You’re on probation. Watch the things you say to me.”
I lack tact. That’s one explanation. Another being
that when I fret the sky hues grey to me.
You lift an eyebrow, raise a high-browed gothic arch;
meanwhile, your face’s softer features plead stay to me.
We married on a drizzly, diaphanous spring day
and since then every morning has been May to me.
You call me a romantic, of the common helpless kind.
I am, it’s true. To which I retort, “Sashay to me.”
You don’t. And won’t, I know. You rarely come when called.
(Cue eyebrow)—your bucket list of things to say to me.
***
Father to Daughter
Sometimes—I know—it’s hard to love your life,
the blemishes and beauty on its face,
the truth of it, the lies, the great big ‘if’
at its heart, the clenched fist of it. Atlas
bugged, too. Just shrug it off. Take stock of it.
Matter and anti-matter are engaged
in quantum combat. Keep your teeth clean. Grit
and grin. You’ll get better at this with age.
© Marc Alan Di Martino
Marc Alan Di Martino is the author of the collections Love Poem with Pomegranate, Still Life with City, and Unburial. His poems and translations appear in Whale Road Review, Autumn Sky, Rattle, and many other journals and anthologies. His work has been nominated for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His translation Day Lasts Forever: Selected Poems of Mario dell’Arco will be published by World Poetry Books in 2024. He lives in Italy.
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