Darkness comes
second
after joy
those black ropes
of tar
move slow
wrap around
the deep
heart.
We shut
our eyes
to the ropes
tightening
around us
until we
remember
the
deep heart
and love it
again
though it is
all cloaked
in a widow’s veil.
Simple love
doesn’t come at you
raging
a hammer
is not moustached
red-rosed
and red-cheeked
it may not flash
-a mountain purple
in the painted
sunset
no
it is as
common as
a quiet teacup
simple and white
each morning
your hands wrapped
around
the same warm
porcelain
again and again
until it is yours.
