Poem from Joseph Brodsky Was Joseph Brodsky publsihed by Levan Kavleli Publishing in 2012.
Read review by Judith Roche.
Links to purchase the book can be found.
for Gia, who wished this poem into existence
I write now to please my Gia
with a Brodsky fantasia—
Gia, you are Joseph’s fan
he could have no better than.
You know all the Brodsky saga—
that he was for Auden gaga.
Yet I need to make you wary
of some digging in that quarry.
In that old abandoned site,
Comes the Irishman by night
praising Bordsky, Auden Yeats—
is there nobody he hates?
I’m not saying he’s a thief—
He’s just got small cause for grief.
I shared with Joseph, when a lass,
sexier than sex, his class.
I was married, we were friends.
There our story nearly ends.
Soon he left our state behind,
the Michigander state of mind
Years went by. We wrote. Not much.
Eventually, we lost touch.
Then one day, I read he’d died.
I don’t even think I cried.
Joseph, you are where we’ll be,
postmarked to eternity.
Your smokes are gone, your coffeed curses,
What remains of you is verses.
In my recent dreams, I kiss you.
When I read your poems, I miss you.
And in these, how bright you shine—
In your poetry, you’re mine.