The poem, not the man.
Can the word do more than the elephant can?
The picture, not the woman.
Do I want to look, or hear a sermon?
The beauty, not the person.
Your body loathes the person
Who thinks about you.
Your shape doesn’t know what to do.
The shape of your heart
Doesn’t love. Only the heart
Strives to ask, and loves the art
Of asking. There is a left handed
Way to walk. The foot demanded
Poetry. And left the poet stranded.
Iambic pentameter is alive.
Take a step. Count to five.
The only thing the picture does
Is make it possible, later on, to love.
Or I might love the picture now.
I won’t love you. I don’t know how.