Two Poems

Gathering

at the party floral discipline is sure to make an appearance
on command as if beckoned just like that as if called upon
temptation lands on your cheek sniper breath held softly
when all the leaves have blown off empty trees and fed
creek flows while fire pit conquers released boys from your arms
your commonplace arms draped around neck parts released
when you see fit and what is left liberated has no choice
but to become a poet for who is left let go which bore witness
to your breath are known to become lovers among men




Recital

wrestling with moonlight ignoring the conventions in which sweet memories bring uninvited howling tunes not meant to be
sung primal imitations of ritual speaking three words
over and over three words I have heard them in the past three
words I have declared them before I say them and I remind
and I am reminded and the hearsay was confirmed modestly and
I sing that we exist and I sing:
I love you

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P. J. Allen is a poet from Centralia, Pennsylvania.