his love

[joel]

His love is not a sesquipedal word
that slickly coils upon itself or falls
infatuated in its glories as
the vertebræ of some constrictor snake—
and neither is his love a simple thing,
as if it doesn’t matter that it’s true—
his love is all I have: the smell of him,
his taste, his voice, the safety of his limb
around my shoulders and the brilliant view
his face produces when he’s honoring
me – hands upon my cheeks, tears that slake
my thirst with unchecked empathy – with dazzling
eyes in lock with mine. His love appalls
me like an honest sound I’ve never heard.

[dadio]

This excellent poem written in the Grand mode has the feel of Shakespeare in each tone and sound, yet is completely Modern. No mean task. Craftsmanship.


the safety of his limb
around my shoulders and the brilliant view
his face produces when he’s honoring
me – hands upon my cheeks, tears that slake
my thirst with unchecked empathy – with dazzling
eyes in lock with mine. (Love these lines)