The Death of Love
eyes meet
lips embrace
bodies tangle
crumpled bedsheets bear witness
to the making of love
the craving is like hunger—
subsistence for the body
everything seems wonderful
like
how the shadows of trees stretch to infinity
repelled only by the rising sun
and
how empty park benches look kindly
at dogs and vagrants in the nights
and
how she sings everything in her sweet voice
and he hums along—
raspy with cigarette burns
a bee hums inside the bedroom
begging to be let out
as one body pounds another madly,
panting
gasping
kissing
swearing
eyes locked
breathing upon one another
and splattering sweat all over;
the window panes are transparent
what does the insect know?
it takes the light for freedom
and splatters itself on the glass
the discovery ends all too soon
too much has been known
imperfections become opaque
he is too lazy and she looks at other men
supplies dwindle; money is a magnet—
the most powerful ever invented;
it pulls apart souls drunk on each other
the four walls of the bedroom become a cage
voices soar and strike the roof and echo
in the bedsheets – they lie in perfect order
it’s time to tear flesh from bones
love dies in a courtroom
burnt by seething hate
