Three Poems by John Tustin

John Tustin

Fly You May

Fly you may

Or fly you must

In the good weather

Or the storm

Surrounded by the colors

Of purple or pale blue

Cinnamon or nearly black

With wings damp or dry —

It’s best to remember

Gliding through the vast

With a strong young back

And wings of silk and wire

That there is even a limit

To the sky

Her Hair is All the Clouds in the Sky

Her hair is all the clouds in the sky.

Her eyes are two pinpoints of darkness

In distance that intrudes

While I sleep naked in distress

Knowing the morning will be

Her body again lying broken upon a bed,

Immaculate and disappeared,

With the sun streaming in and pouring

All that accursed light.

Work of Art

Tonight we create

Another indelible

Work of art.

My paintbrush tongue dipping into your

Tightening well of paint,

My thumbprint on your thigh

To serve

As my


John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many literary journals over the last dozen years. See for links to his published poetry online.

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