The Courage to Love
A man who has lost his legs and arms in war
and still is able to talk will take a willing woman
and wheel stand his tongue in the center meridian
of the highway to her heart if she encourages him.
And just so, a woman who bereft of her womb
and her body ravaged by certain surgeries
as have carved her breasts like maps
and stands weeping in the mirror
at the loss of her charming youth
and the perfection of her skin
and the eternal bounty of her
silken hips has room for love.
For is it beyond age and skin
and the textures of the outer shell
that matches break their sulfur laden heads
in scratching on the book to make a fire.
What magic ever there was will be there
on the last lisping breath the moment
of extinguishment if hearts are set
and minds are clear of every reason not to.
I see a woman and I think, "There is a blossom
in its fullness, owing nothing to the world
except to sing her fragrance," and this one
or that one will hold back,
but for those who do not stingily, out of fear
of rejection, withhold themselves,
there is not a day goes by
without a hope-filled lover in her life.