Poem a Day 2023

To be honest –

Love has always been perfect, 

and each incarnation leaves me 

closer to some ideal at the intersection 

of brokenness and power, maybe emptiness? 

but always shattered and spread thin but also 

wrapped up but also like all of those pieces 

of glass at the bottom of the recycling bins:

covered in filth and sticky, matted to the bottom, 

precarious to pick up always lingering for that day

when you finally get around to just admitting, yeah – 

its emptiness alright but it’s meant so much – 

in a convex way? 

Perfect lovers help me trace 

this convex emptiness  bearing down on us 

beyond gravity and other presences; 

Cling to this invisible dome with me, 

magnets staking claim and 

holding up your letters and bad drawings 

before bearing to much and sliding down, 

only toothpicks and quarters wrapped in dollar 

bills seem to stick and stay up there forever.