Saturday, March 21, 2015

call that love

her word, her handshake,
her diploma of affection
nailed to the wall,
a certificate blessed
by law and god,
the ring on her finger,
scripted vows,
all of it, or any of it
means next to nothing
in the long haul.
sit and watch and care
for the dying. find a vein,
spoon a lick of food
between parched lips.
take a sponge and clean,
then call it what you
will, but stay forever
before you call that love.

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