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Since god expelled his first
two students for learning,
must we assume that ignorance
is the only way
to understand creation?
I’d still want to know
what rain wants when it falls,
or what that fox— –
the one lying dead
by the side of the road –—
wanted from the other side.
And those gulls – —flying
like white missiles
past my window – —
what are they aiming for?
What is the meaning of clover
that smells like my memory
of an Iowa field forty years ago?
How did passion cool
to the glacier that flowed
across the face of my wife?
So Eve, tell me – —
how does this apple taste to you?
Bio:
David Clowers began to write poetry ten years ago with the help of an Internet poets’ group, and he now is a member of the Unabridged group in Egg Harbor. His poems have been published in the 2009 and 2010 Wisconsin Poets’ Calendars, Knock, Fox Cry and The Peninsula Pulse.