Who stole the angel’s glory?
Still, you’ve got the rarest grave in Pere Lachaise,
Granite teeming with lipstick kisses,
A shoal of petals in a mountain lake,
A cloud burst of tropical fish,
And taped to a withering rose there’s a note:
Thank you for teaching me that I was good.
I kiss the teacher too
For you are more than welcome
To the imprint of my gaping mouth
If I can stay awhile in reverence
To watch my wet gift fading,
November sun licking my lips.
from The Boy in The Ring
Today marks the 159th anniversary of the birth of the socialist playwright, poet, critic, aphorist and love-rebel Oscar Wilde.