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Not Touching

Since I’m a busy bee working on creative nonfiction pieces here at NYU I haven’t had time to devote to poetry so today’s poem is by Billy Collins. One of my favorites. I don’t even think I can add a picture for this one because he paints one himself. Enjoy 🙂

The valentine of desire is pasted over my heart
and still we are not touching, like things

in a poorly done still life
where the knife appears to be floating over the plate
which is itself hovering above the table somehow,

the entire arrangement of apple, pear, and wineglass
having forgotten the law of gravity,
refusing to be still,

as if the painter had caught them all
in a rare moment of slow flight
just before they drifted out of the room
through a window of perfectly realistic sunlight.

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