Hugh Cook

Under Maple Leaves

Can your country break your heart?
People the walls red and blue, flashing fights.
I’m not sure I ever felt it pulse, gasp, or writhe
In pleasure at my touch, my love, no words.

Quiet pleasure, empty night,
I two step sober. What is dance?
Just a feel, as the sky burns brighter.
Like I’m about to fall
in love for the first time,

I replant the bulb of my soul, soaked till it shines
In the rich soil beneath that ancient Maple,
Living in sweet, mossy air of daffodils.

Hugh Cook attends University of Santa Barbara, California, studying Writing and Literature. His poetry has been published in Tipton Poetry JournalAriel Chart and The Catalyst literary arts magazine. 

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