display | more...

This is Love from an open Wound.
This is Love from a Sore scraped raw.
This is Love made of Pus and Oil.
This is Spit,
This is Blood,
This is damp black Char.

This I give you with knotted Fists,
from Palms covered sparsely with ribboned Skin.
This is all I have left to yield
after dark
after night
after shredded heart.

Love made with haste in the parking lot
Love made with violence in a smoke filled loft
Love made of whimp'ring and pleading no
into Whole
into Soul
into once-bright Smile

This is Love from an open Wound
left to swell in the August sun
This is Love as It spills Its name
onto dirt
onto grass
onto grown-cold ground

This is Love from a Sore scraped raw,
homeless Spirit in a red tin can.
This is Love that has stretched too far
to be shaken,
or taken
back inside again.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.