A Poem I Love and Two Poems I Wrote

One Art ~ Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Paper Cuts
Your heartbeats raised bruises on me.
Broken, I'd retreat to fiction,
salivate to pages turning,
read to believe our love was epic.

But paper cuts, and when I lick my wounds,
my blood tastes sweet like aspartame.

Freshman Year
Kissing Chris Renner:
emotional Hiroshima.