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love is finished again
anthony dipietro
after Yehuda Amichai

strike the center

of a silence

with a low

resonant gong

your ears

can’t tell

exactly when

its sound

has ended

& another

has taken over


love is finished again like that






like a thing you can’t remember

               whether you said aloud or merely thought


like a specific drive you arrive without memory of

               because you have done the same route over and over


like a window left open during rain

               witnessed later in its wetness & slid shut






                              you would think

                  that lightning

                              wouldn’t strike

              twice but

it often

           does in the very

                                     same place

                        love is finished


                   like a repeat

                              lightning strike






like if you stand in shadow & keep still

while the sun travels you will


once again be kissed by sun

or if you stand in a puddle the sun


will dry it

if you wait


& if you turn a right corner

four times you will come back


to the point where you began




just like that






like opening a mirrored cabinet on your left

                                             & another mirror on your right to create

                              the infiniti mirror effect

or like being penniless right before payday

                                             & then your bank balance rebounds

                              love is finished like that






like how your taxes pay

for another parade

& ceremony another fancy black tie dance


even when the politician’s been

reelected to the same office


again love is finished


in its time & soon

every speech







like when you lose your

               voice & it comes back

                              like sleep interrupted in dark


                              hours when you know if you keep

               your eyes closed you’ll return

to sleep & it to you


like a downhill slope of road

               is always followed by an uphill stretch

                              though no two hills are alike






once you cross a border you can

in fact cross back again but

you can never un-cross






               like a batch of biscuits

burned & you have to start

               baking all over again

or like a many layered cake

               with alternating flavors

raspberry lemon vanilla repeat

               love is just like that

have you ever noticed it?






like the mailbox with paper stuffed in it but


some days it is empty


eventually it will fill again






like one violin      that cries a string of notes

is always joined by      a partner violin

extending the cry      while one violin

takes a break to      breathe

the wind comes      off the strings

as off a body      of water

love is finished      love begins

taking over from      another love






once you have been born to one

father you can’t be

un-born or be born to another


you can only scream

& cry & hope they feed

you & bring you


someplace safe & eventually

you rock

yourself to sleep



Anthony DiPietro is a gay Rhode Island native who has worked in community-based organizations for 14 years. In 2016, he joined Stony Brook University, where he earned a creative writing MFA, taught college courses, and planned and diversified arts programming. He is now associate director of the Rose Art Museum in Waltham, Massachusetts. A graduate of Brown University with honors in creative writing, his poems and essays have appeared in Notre Dame Review, Spillway, Washington Square Review, and others. He has been a finalist with Coal Hill Review, Naugatuck River Review, and The Tishman Review and has received fellowships from Aspen Summer Words, The Frost Place, and Key West Literary Seminars. His website is

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