Salvatore Difalco

The Reality of Poetry
 
Be near me when my light is low,
warm my hands with yours,
hold my head and whisper 
You are loved, or, You are not alone.

Console me with your eyes,
words will not suffice
at this moment of peril,
when I fear that my life

is a parody of itself, a sham,
a scam, a game I can only
lose if I choose to play
along, sitting on my hands.

Be near me when my light dims,
hold my face close to yours,
touch your cheek to my cheek
and let your warmth speak

to me, your patience and calm.
Or lift your hand above your 
shoulder and hold it for a sec
before you let it wallop my face,

and tell me as I grimace and wince
to get over myself and whatever
this horseshit is. “There’s nothing
wrong with you that a job won’t fix.”

Sicilian-Canadian poet and storyteller Salvatore Difalco lives in Toronto, Canada.