Saturday, February 20, 2010

In Defense of Love

There is a hole in my life,
on this happy Valentine's Day.

Not the loss, the regret, of love.
Not the vanishing caresses,
or tender glance.

No, a hole in time itself.
The loss of existence,
of a moment that will never come back.

A scoop of flesh
out of the body of I am.

A gaping void,
glaring empty,
a pock-mark on my chest,
since you are gone.

The space is silent,
as the echo lingers on.

A memory locked away,
hidden for all time
from the joys of
what might have been.

Love, oh sweet love,
you are my punishment.

And what if she were asked,
"Do you love him?"

And if she were to say "Yes,"
what then of it?

The courts,
the jails,
they do not know of love,
but you do.

Each and every one of you do.

In your hearts,
in your breasts,
you understand.

Even the judge and jailor,
they too,
somewhere deep inside of them,
they too kindle the fire for love.

"Love?" says your public defender.
"How old are you? Grow up.
Do you want to go home tonight?"

Yet, you know your defense is true,
will see you through,
the slow drip of time.

Where counting hours
is done by shades of light
and the broken illusions
of fitful, stuttering sleep.

You pace the cells
of your heart
for any indication
that they will set you free.

The jingling of keys
excites sweet emotions.

Love, love, love,
kiss my lips
and set me free.

Slide open your doors.
Clanging, rolling,
metal, steal.
Open up your cages.

Uncuff Cupid's wrist
and believe.

Love, yes love,
will set you free.