Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Caroline Bird

Break-up Party

Break-up Party

Break-up Party

Everybody had a throat and none was gulping.
Presently came another man with drinks.
In the manner of tedious mingling, it was easeful enough.

It was only a tad drafty and always abundant with firewood.
That is to say, no one ever mentioned the roof had been blown off.

There was little of the sobbing and song-writing about birds
one usually finds in these places, rather how frank
it was, how open.

“I was going to offer you representation,”
said a camp lawyer, stripping to his boxers for a dip
in the pool, “but I see that won’t be necessary.”

Sometimes I wished you would show me something,
just a nod or a wave of a glove.
Close

Break-up Party

Everybody had a throat and none was gulping.
Presently came another man with drinks.
In the manner of tedious mingling, it was easeful enough.

It was only a tad drafty and always abundant with firewood.
That is to say, no one ever mentioned the roof had been blown off.

There was little of the sobbing and song-writing about birds
one usually finds in these places, rather how frank
it was, how open.

“I was going to offer you representation,”
said a camp lawyer, stripping to his boxers for a dip
in the pool, “but I see that won’t be necessary.”

Sometimes I wished you would show me something,
just a nod or a wave of a glove.

Break-up Party

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