Apr 162012

Are we sowing daughters when we seesaw?
Is any throng of sons arising from our private aching,
The back-and-forth of our terrifying loving
That silences to shame the puma and the daw?
Is it enough to just be here and be just us?
Doesn’t “fairest nature desire fair increase,”
Isn’t your body a longboat full of empty seats
Where antsy children clamor, like on the bus?
Isn’t there something in the flower of ourselves
That desires to be plucked like the heavy magnolia,
Plucked and held up, despite the streaks of purple melancholia?
Is it enough for love to just ask these questions?
Our fears exchange a look of blackest ice;
A shiver comes, and then a kiss; it will suffice.

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