Little whims of passion
Sweep over me
When you stand over the faucet
And regard me in that mirror
Little whims of passion
Sweep all over me
Such whims that carry me far
If for that fleeting look
To that hidden sea
And I freeze and drown
In the blessed numbness
Then,
Little whims of passion
Make me alive
Through dead nights of
Creaking beds, groaning appetites
And I resurrect from the imbecile
I sometimes become.
Little whims of passion
Between the clutter of crockery
When you cut and carve
With such resigned love
Make me blind
To them morsels.
Little whims of passion
When your eyes shine
And mine
Dimples to crown
All self-centered frowns
Stately affair, staged or otherwise.
Little whims of passion
Cram it, jam it, stuff it
All that is me and mine
I’m soluble and it becomes
You.
That is love(they tell me)
When it's true.
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1 comment:
Ah, what a passionate piece of poetry.
Swept me over to the blessed numbness, made me alive with such resigned love and self-centered frowns...yes this is love.
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