The Difficult Thing About a Love Poem

The difficult thing about a love poem

is that it doesn’t want to be one.

You see! I’ve already let the meter go

wherever it wants to roam, for the sake of fun,

and to make my point. It’s sort of like the way

our feet get tangled when we sleep, and we trip

into each other’s dreams. Poetry can’t contain

how gently you kissed me — even when I was sick.

This type of love requires an honesty

that poetry can’t express. A careful glance,

chocolates, red wine and all the rest

can’t capture the drunk-in-love ways we’ve danced —

or the magic of long plants. But who’ll blame me for

trying to count the ways that I adore you?

—and in fourteen lines, no less.

Like this? You can read my poem, “Hunger Cleaned the Plates,” at the link below.

Hunger Cleaned the Plates