#loveroot

If the joy house I inhabit must be a house of my own making, I accept that making.

Is love the sugar-coated poison that gets us in the end?

I have checked out pounds of meat & cans of soup. I walk home laden, light with writing you.

Our mothers get us hooked, then leave us cold, all full-grown orphans hungering after love.

What happens when the juice of the sun drenches you with its lemony tang, its tart sweetness & your whole body stings with singing so that your toes sing to your mouth & your navel whistles to your breasts & your breasts wave to everyone as you walk down the summer street?

We sit on a rock to allow our souls to catch up with us. We have been traveling a long time. Behind us are forests of books with pages green as leaves. A blood sun stares over the horizon.

Mother, what I feel for you is more & less than love.

Our souls are slow. They walk miles behind our long shadows. They do not dance. They need all their strength merely to follow us.