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Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Devoted to the Poem

Lately, I find your touch warms me
even when you are not there;

for it has burned its mark here
in rituals of nightly poetry,

in a litany of literature
only lovers know by heart:

red cells pulsing in the dark,
opening up the veins of my arm;

lifeblood removed, separated
and replaced with your fire;

a drug-induced flue; shot down
and starved of air -- breathless

every desire speaks of you
in a call to join before we die,

to forget the how or why
to the flesh of our lives,

to live beyond the boundaries
of so many sad bruises

impressed on us by others
to harden us cruelly,

to soften life's cadences
recreated in our prosody:

lives devoted to the poem
of living love honestly;

lately my love, I find I go dizzy
with this wisdom you give me.

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