Classic Poem

we err. We err
in open air, dare-

devil as a swallow's
swerve. We err

with verve. Our errors serve
as bearings

as we flare and dive
and flounder.

We scare away our lovers
and declare

a territory where before
there wasn't any.

Later we share our feelings.
Say we're

sorry. Swear to be
more careful.

Oh, we show our showy words
like colors

and then, in a flurry of ever
rarer, ever

braver aerials, there
we are again,

famished birds wheeling
over burials.











From Poetry Magazine, September 2006. Used with permission.