The Lovers by Glenn D’Alessio

Pareekshith Indeever

The Lovers

I wish I had my notebook 

to write about them

changing bit by bit,

by beams streaking past clouds,

and past water stippled

red-rock-cliffs

with streaks of black 

sliding across iron oxides

in a paling sky

of darkening forms, 

and greying lintels

for God to step down 

 

blue caverns of clouds

angels fly through

to herald the Lord

saying goodnight to this canyon

so we’ll feel no fear

of what happens in the dark,

for no other sight is mightier

than when night meets day,

just a moment to savor,

yet making us neighbors

where in the final glory

greys gain hues from heaven --

beige, purple, and red 

that bred salmon cliffs 

clambering to be the Lord’s antechamber

in savory songs whispered in cedars

of delightful desert dreams

where dwell no harbingers of hell,

but spells are woven by breezes 

draining down rims canyons bring to God,

expecting him to wear them as rings

wedding him to earth

where he enters her soft form – lovers nocturnally nourishing each other.

© Glenn D’Alessio

Glenn D’Alessio

Glenn D’Alessio is a West Brookfield, Massachusetts, carpenter who used to teach Energy Conservation classes at Worcester State University. Three of his chapbooks have been published by Finishing Line Press (FLP), with a full-length poetry book due out in September 2026.

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