“Desire perishes because it tries to be love.” Jack Gilbert
If this is true then we are wrenching
Ourselves free of tight English gardens of
Polite gestures that speak pardons & do tells—
Before we even touch.
Too quick the heart responds
Too slow the hand to follow
Tidal pull washes smooth the
creases logic makes
Leaves behind vast expanses
of sand….
Start over: I have met a woman
whose heart fits in my hand
her hand smooths my soul it
soothes its hungry hole
My heart tells this story
from a point beyond the start line.
I should be disqualified for writing like this
My blood screened
A panel should discuss my sanity or just Jack
Telling me that words will fail if they try to
be poetry.
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