2 poems by Tonno Bisaccio

whatever the story 

You don’t see the moment,

Whatever the story –

Love, treachery, revenge, enlightenment.

You don’t see the ending,

Whatever the plot –

Rags to riches, riches to rags then riches again.

Still, something in you knows,

Beneath, that

It’s passed,

That something colder will

Occupy the topology

Of all-at-once 

Distant summer dreams.

Warmer faces and 

Warmer teas will give warm solace

On such sorrow-tainted, snowy eves

When you wander about, wondering

If something new will find you

Beneath the fallen leaves

Dissolving into earth,

Dripping toward seeds

That, yes,

Will find their way through to meet

The sun rising, once the snow

Has melted clear. 

the teapot society

Define any thing:

A summer breeze, a tin roof, a 

Snowflake drifting, a girl, a father,

Your boyfriend or your sister’s new shoes –

Even a teapot.

Create its place, joy, sorrow:

Draw lines around

Its embedded time, and sound, and forms – 

What did you

Make for each? A name,

A face, a scent, a flower-

Filled field on a perfect

Day, the moment of tragedy knowing, looking

Down, (always down, then,) or looking

Straight and up, (always straight and up – 

When a then carries a belief,)

A background, a time unmoving, a

Movement, an alternative, a feeling,

A fear, a safeness? 

Am I this teapot, topped

With a dragon, tail curled and

A living flower tattooed in 

Yellow-green pigment on my body? 

Am I an implication, only:

The space of a teapot,

A space needed in 

A time needed with

A movement –

A sideways moving, discretely, inside – so like

A thing among other things defined.

We make a warm drink together,

You and I,

In society,

Blending the flavors of

Dried things that don’t become,

Not yet, until

You no longer need the space I hold

And I no longer need 

You to create the teapot

I am yet with you, in 

Society, we remain – dragon, tea, and all.