- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Seven Minutes Shy of Ten Hours
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Click hereOkay, we talked and talked. I tried
constantly not to take my side:
you know, the one where I love
mistletoe, pomp and circumstance.
I did remarkably well, I thought.
You were a bit pouty from time
to time, but it was something like
a bit of cinnamon, in the chili.
I called in sick today. I lied.
I told you before, I love too freely,
too much. But it's nobody's fault
that I love you.
On the other hand, it gets a bit
complicated. Real love, to me,
implies real caring. And what
I most want (because I do love you)
is for the one you love
to love you back. Somehow. Maybe
on a rock planet made of granite, somewhere,
that is happening: he
loves you. Perhaps only a little
water in a flat place, with no air stirring,
would be calm enough to be a mirror
and let you see the truth of it. Love, me.
- COMMENTS
twelveooneover 16 years agothe call on it being a little too prose-like, dead on, I like the tone, though it was something like a bit of cinnamon, in the chili.
ElmerGlewover 16 years agoThe early stanzas read almost as prose and I find them, frankly, a little dull. But that closing stanza is marvelous and makes the poem. Beautiful image.
