love is finished again
anthony dipietro
after Yehuda Amichai
strike the center
of a silence
with a low
resonant gong
your ears
can’t tell
exactly when
its sound
has ended
& another
has taken over
love is finished again like that
*
*
like a thing you can’t remember
whether you said aloud or merely thought
like a specific drive you arrive without memory of
because you have done the same route over and over
like a window left open during rain
witnessed later in its wetness & slid shut
*
*
you would think
that lightning
wouldn’t strike
twice but
it often
does in the very
same place
love is finished
again
like a repeat
lightning strike
*
*
like if you stand in shadow & keep still
while the sun travels you will
once again be kissed by sun
or if you stand in a puddle the sun
will dry it
if you wait
& if you turn a right corner
four times you will come back
to the point where you began
finished
love
just like that
*
*
like opening a mirrored cabinet on your left
& another mirror on your right to create
the infiniti mirror effect
or like being penniless right before payday
& then your bank balance rebounds
love is finished like that
*
*
like how your taxes pay
for another parade
& ceremony another fancy black tie dance
even when the politician’s been
reelected to the same office
again love is finished
in its time & soon
every speech
ends
*
*
like when you lose your
voice & it comes back
like sleep interrupted in dark
hours when you know if you keep
your eyes closed you’ll return
to sleep & it to you
like a downhill slope of road
is always followed by an uphill stretch
though no two hills are alike
*
*
once you cross a border you can
in fact cross back again but
you can never un-cross
*
*
like a batch of biscuits
burned & you have to start
baking all over again
or like a many layered cake
with alternating flavors
raspberry lemon vanilla repeat
love is just like that
have you ever noticed it?
*
*
like the mailbox with paper stuffed in it but
some days it is empty
eventually it will fill again
*
*
like one violin that cries a string of notes
is always joined by a partner violin
extending the cry while one violin
takes a break to breathe
the wind comes off the strings
as off a body of water
love is finished love begins
taking over from another love
*
*
once you have been born to one
father you can’t be
un-born or be born to another
you can only scream
& cry & hope they feed
you & bring you
someplace safe & eventually
you rock
yourself to sleep
*
Anthony DiPietro is a gay Rhode Island native who has worked in community-based organizations for 14 years. In 2016, he joined Stony Brook University, where he earned a creative writing MFA, taught college courses, and planned and diversified arts programming. He is now associate director of the Rose Art Museum in Waltham, Massachusetts. A graduate of Brown University with honors in creative writing, his poems and essays have appeared in Notre Dame Review, Spillway, Washington Square Review, and others. He has been a finalist with Coal Hill Review, Naugatuck River Review, and The Tishman Review and has received fellowships from Aspen Summer Words, The Frost Place, and Key West Literary Seminars. His website is AnthonyWriter.com.
