LOVER
is
love
distinctive?
instinctive?
base?
superstructure?
merely lip service?
meandering midnight
love poem
that simply
never ends?
let me
stand back a bit
mirror this
big boudoir moment
(purely
for the big picture
no
ulterior motive)
your beauty such
that taking one look
gives
me such confidence
for the continuity
of the species
unless
it evolve as regards
shape and form
to obviate
all discussion
of humanity’s preservation
and so
you stand appalled
expecting so much more
expecting something different
and me
in hot debate
with her
nonetheless.
Queen of
Confessional Poetry herself
no
love poem
in the air
I ask for the words
for sauce
but get insouciance
not a hint of nuance, colour,
love code and
all its protocols
Hallmark of
all that a love poem should be
having
lost so much at love
so
bereft of energy
poems 2 die for 