james h duncan



The twine of beaten love

there is an anger hidden
beneath the last fine layer
of paint, the last layer of dust conceals
so much lusting, hidden faces,
the awful remnants
of history

swelling beneath the Hudson murk
the deep, the darkest leagues
familiar bodies sway mute, and in such
tender motion

dead to one world, wispy to any other
they sway in the tide so gently chaotic

there is an anger hidden within
every fiber of the air
tying every failure together with
the twine of beaten love
reticent anger, succulent pain
the ballast of life

the rub of it is how we strive
to shrug it off
when we do, we see we have
left everything behind
and there is nothing left to take us

James H Duncan is a New York native living in the southwest by day and dreaming of New England by night. A graduate of Southern Vermont College, James recently released his third collection of poetry titled Ballast. Plainsongs, Reed Magazine, The Aurorean, Jones AV., and The Homestead Review, among others, have welcomed his poetry, more of which can be seen at www.jhdwriting.com


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take me home