Tuesday, 21 August 2007

What Brings Two Together?

Sex is not enough. Though if it comes from deeper hurt,

actions less acting out tides of hormones

than drives settled in like colonies in the extremities

shadowing our mastermind waiting for a partner

worthy not of the mailbox but other procedures

to force into the open—that’s beauty in love,

the tearing open of wounds, the sparing of disappointments,

elements alone no more than the ongoing shedding

or frames destroying a museum.

Even children stuck in the rut of their golden spoons

grow out of their sugar daddies one day

seeking calm bliss and it all falls happily apart.

The dream lifts. It is insanity to survivors

in a hooded world. Guarded.

All designed to turn away, quiet

and mountainous. The frowns worn proudly.

Torn from mother or father.

The smiles through robotic voices

deaf to themselves,

sweetly following fashion, unloved

before it struck them for a reason for not to care for,

or a whim set aside over the long work weeks.

We wait, watching the dragonflies clean the air

where library lampposts go on, and bats veer through

specimens too large to gather like bones

steering through the dusk.

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