love can
edit highly political
memos; take
photos of the stars;
fetch chinese groceries;
subdue the ever accumulating
wash.
it can massage aching
feet or cut the splitting
nails;
serve the
mangoes, gooey &
delicious.
love is to cluch
you close in
the too much
dark; confess all
the truths of my
rickety
universe
(like the carton
of cookies i over
ate, hidden in our
pack-rat
paradise).
we listen
& we laugh at the
echoes.
there is
nothing i
wouldn’t do
for your
smile.