Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Evening Poem #81

I wish I could find a love like
the nervous system, a love so base
it is cellular, a love that traffics
synapse, that is mind-body love.

I want the kind of love that when
the finger is burned no words
are spoken but the hand knows
to draw back instantly. I want

the kind of love that rumbles
in the belly when it's hungry,
and the mouth, too, watering.
I want love miasmic and silent

as mitosis, white cells gathering
at the site of infection. Not this
mute child. Not this beautiful
puzzle that keeps me awake

at night, trying to interpret
poop, the tugging at an earlobe,
what it means that he won't
say, I love you.

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