This May Be a Love Poem

By | 8 June 2020

We are ugly but we have the words,
even if no one reads them.
We carry no axes, unready to kill.

Or turn on the oven until it warms.
trains have passed us
since the day we were born

and none have crushed us.
We don’t scheme to
drown in a shallow pond.

Tell me again
how you intend to dig
a grave into our bed.

And how, after all these years,
nothing else but you fills the air.
It’s forever your season: loud & clear.

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