this is how i understand love:
When the crisp and hollow wailing of our neighbor
In front of her dead son
Lost its consonants and the trail of
Vowels seems to me the last echo
In her womb.
this is how understand love:
When the moon continues to guide lovers
And murderers, even if Euclid’s disciples
Shamed her to becoming
A pockmarked rock floating On
Newton’s head.
this is how i understand love:
When I sit on an empty blue bench,
And no one sits with me, save my
Shadow and an echo of vowels ringing
In my ears.
I feel your pain, man.
I feel your pain, man. Beautifully written. Quiet but solid, and I really love the last four lines. Keep on writing.