hearthritis

happiness gave me hearthritis;

virus of love’s voyeurs.

 

the delusion

detritus

has value, that you can write a

rubbish verse never meant to be

interpreted,

but you can translate its idioms;

that motherfucker hurts.

 

aching in the bones of romance,

a bowlegged dance with

invincibility,

wisdom filling nerves

reckless abandon

deserted.

 

I’ve watched my love herded to the far side and back,

yet my wrists have never crackled or popped

like this.

 

this kiss has never been described as cold, although

as I grow old,

the temperature of tone plummets, and it’s hard to

keep the words

coming off them

warm.

 

(ditto for locking lips)

 

It’s not that I don’t want you,

nor that I will quit,

but we won’t dance bowlegged

because it’s a risk in the dark, and

all the candles in my

heart have

been

blown

out.

 

 

 

 

 

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