Love
I believe in science
one steps out of the blue
sphere of narrow perspectives
borders disappear into dust motes
creating the cosmos’ choreography.
It’s impossible not to acknowledge
how small and equal we are
what nurtures us must feed
the planet our rhythmic breath;
selfishness is a genetic error.
Science reveals Love’s creativity
informs Nature’s assertion equally
its oxygen permeates history
connects, fills every crack of life
behaving just like Dark Matter
that 95% of mass we cannot see.
Subtly it affects us, shapes
Galaxies, holds them in place
by a gravitational field engineered
by what we cannot understand,
Love Matter.
Summer Love
Perfectly
aligned stars rained
above
eyes on heavens like prayers
and
while our backs sank in the sand,
bent
knees alternated touching with not.
Behind
blackberry bushes and wild reeds
we
threw crumpled papers into the pond
after
writing our names on lined tablets,
like
Moses, or God.
Koi
ate not only the capital but the small case
letters
of those names penciled so lovingly.
This
kind of love: flushed face, red smile,
heart
aflame in growing breasts rendered us
tongue-tied,
though aware of our arm hairs
rising
like kites on a windy morning.
Once
we held hands to cross the street,
but
disengaged slowly afraid
to
weld like gold under heat.
Lips
half open, eyelids half closed
we
bumped into street lights,
stepped
on sea urchins in the rocks.
On
the last summer day,
stars
perfectly aligned,
bronzed
legs inside the sea
he
placed my hands on his waist,
held
my face between his fingers
before
giving me the first salty gift
I
ever returned.
When You Left
the house turned into the dark hull of a boat,
an ambush of windowless cells
where thorns from a recent bouquet prickled
my tender skin.
I tried to mend my heart
with the only threads I owned
frayed by sadness,
but without light
I stabbed my fingers.
The bathroom mirror reflected
your dancing presence, flirting eyes,
a dent on my pillow kissed me passionately,
until a crow cawed repeatedly.
When I looked outside a window,
resplendor blinded me
again
to the words you whispered
the first day, “I love you
but I won’t stay.”
You stayed,
until you didn’t.
To my surprise summer radiance continued glowing on trees,
until shades transformed into shadows.
I wore the stiletto blue sandals you bought me
for six consecutive months,
played the scene again and again in my mind,
you pleading me to walk the Passarella one more time,
eyes on my bare legs glassy with desire.
Until,
I took the imaginary bouquet to the trash,
exited the boat’s hull, climbed to deck
in time to watch a refreshing breeze
lift the unsubstantial fabric of our love.
Impassible, I sat on your leather chair,
slowed my breathing,
waited,
until you were completely blown away.
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