To be in love · The Art of Poetry

To be in love

A coven, but it’s just me

I have been kept a prisoner,

drank the

Poison with steady hands

Nothing has been as storied as you,

Your heart and its ossuary lands

The trees are smug above,

Knowing I’m poised to deliver myself

To a most delicious fate

The serous islands of my soul

And

Outstretched, an aching vision

Of how I once was whole

You come to grip me, the switchgrass

Sweet on my open mouth

To be in love is so violent,

I’m constantly shedding parts of myself

I’m constantly forested by the wild stokes

Of your eyes, glued, to the gravesite

of my inner thighs

Eternity is a long time

Can we choose a shady spot where there’s a food truck set up

And a library that SMELLS like a cindering book

And a bodega that always has my cigarettes

And a front porch where we live

In the heliotrope of a new morning

A new mourning

Kimberly Virga 2025

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