If You Must Hide Yourself From Love
by Christopher Salerno
It is important to face the rear of the train
as it leaves the republic. Not that all
departing is yearning. First love is
a factory. We sleep in a bed that had once
been a tree. Nothing is forgot.
Yet facts, over time, lose their charm,
warned a dying Plato. You have to isolate
the lies you love. Are we any less
photorealistic? I spot in someone’s Face-
book sonogram a tiny dictum
full of syllogisms. One says: all kisses come
down to a hole in the skull,
toothpaste and gin; therefore your eyes
are bull, your mouth is a goal.