The Cruellest Month

A Love Poem

I overflow with love,
a surfeit poured on;

I fizz up with love,
shaken and frothy;

I radiate red, and pink
with love in concentric rings;

weakened by love
my knees like loose joints

strengthened by love
(the heart is a muscle)

obsessed with my love,
as boring as termites.


Marriage is supposed
to be a contract to the death.

Marriage is supposed
to be for better or for worse.

I stayed put for sixteen years
before I wrenched myself clean

of the worse, of the worst,
of the sickness.

I was supposed to remain,
but I had to be true

to my deep heart.
You get one life only.

Now I have love
in all directions

and it feels like
it was supposed to.