Thursday, January 30, 2014

Love and Gravitas

He says, as you know
death is incremental.
It can take years to pass.
The nightmare of isolation,
the precurser of passing
looms ever nearer.
Inklings from the loss of driver's license,
the joy of distance,
perfect incompletness,
then the gradual gelding by money. 
Income becomes minimally adequate,
possible only. I can't disagree.
Softness of fiscal flesh dries with slow
slicing away of everything joyous.
The light slowly dims.
He is frightened by the
confines and the darkness.
He is frightened of the signs.
He tells her
even when she may not listen,
when love costs
that's when you should measure it.
Keep pleasant
undemanding love a secret.
Enjoy it in private
or boast.
Never tell it secrets,
especially secrets of a
demanding kind.
When love holds
in spite of hurt
then it brings relief.


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