An Apology to Love
A poem on my knees in contrition to the idea of Love
Forgive us Love, forgive me.
We’ve done you an injustice
We who fiddle with words
We are too easily intoxicated
We are drunkards chugging draughts from the keg of romance
We are dizzy from spinning in passion’s vortex
Cutting and scarring ourselves as we make much show of running our fingers over the shattered slivers of broken hearts.
We love Love with fiery loins.
We love Love with paint and brush
We love Love walking in beauty like…
We love the despair of loving Love, perhaps best of all.
But what poet ever said a damn worthwhile thing about the stamina of Love? The sheer boring endurance of Love?
Love is 2000 brown bags and a thermos.
Love is cleaning the bed pan again.
But we’ll tell you love is a fragile sledgehammer.
We’ll grind your bones under the weight of it and then show you how it shatters into a million exquisite shards.
But love is not a fragile sledgehammer,
love is a feathered warship, a wall of silken sand bags,
a teacher.
