Love Is a Map I Must Not Set on Fire.
When I take you in flurries the lights go out.Stars come out. You come out again.
Love is under the bed, a children's monster.
The dildo gleams. We hold knives in our hands.
When I take you in words we reinvent categories.
Chair is a particular type of chair.
There are no abstractions, we are all specifics.
The window gleams, awash with stars.
When I take you home all hardwood is sacred.
The things we buy represent nothing but use.
Kiwis gleam; we light them as candles.
The dildo emerges from the dishwasher in time.
When I take you with wind beneath terrible branches
you whirl your skirts to make up for lost time.
You become weather and I am your weatherman.
I point to the map I must not set on fire.
When I take you in marriage old laws turn to tangles.
You toss your breasts in my face like runes.
When we lie we say monster, a verb in the making.
I must not commit arson. All gleaming is gone.
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| Author: | GUESS, CAROL |
|---|---|
| Publication: | The Gay & Lesbian Review Worldwide |
| Date: | Jul 1, 2001 |
| Words: | 174 |
| Previous Article: | Serendipity from A to Z. |
| Next Article: | The British Are Coming--Or Are They? |