The Curiosities of Love

Tilt it sideways, skewed from center.
Give it limbs,

Hold the way the light attaches to skin
on your hungry tongue,
soon flung
to the indifference of breeze.

It’s a young girl in a flirty skirt,
an old man trompsing in the rain,
a cracked clay pot waiting.

…………….The moon’s craggy face.

It’s the tangibility of silence,
the graffiti of grace.

Allow it
the fabrication of unknownness;
………………. its own dark heart.

If love be a day,
it shall not

Prompted by Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 24





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