An incomplete poem about love




Picture: americanpoetinchina

 























I have been trying to write a poem about love
a country not lost, yet not found
I’ve written a breath of a stanza wearing a glove
mute to the wetness of ink merging margins set apart
the minute scribbling that is matter to matters of my heart
the very matter overflowing the platter set in parts
Surely the half-moon does not deny the full night
and an incomplete poem about love is not written in half might

I might have thought it unwise to fall in love at some point
but little did I know that it’s the unworthy ones that are fit for this path
They that don’t recall themselves
once set in the vacancy of the soul of the other
Well, I have seen others like the former me
prisoners of an escape from love’s warm embrace
almost poets in how they render this beauty
worthy to not attempt; worthy to betray