Animal Love

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

--Mary Oliver

Love shouldn't be this hard.

This hard, hurt thing that breaks

me when I run into it

as I have, over and over

like my fucking shin into the coffee table

that I finally had the sense to throw out.

But I can't throw out love

every time I try it comes slinking back

in some other form, in some other face

yet another pair of hands that offer 

rough caresses, arms that hold me 

with promises never to let go. 

Slender things, easily blown away

On a lover's post-coital exhalations.

What if there were no promises? 

No words at all

only love, this animal that eats and sleeps, 

gives and takes affection. 

This sweet dumb beast that speaks 

with touch and breath

and wild songs for its beloved

and cannot tell a lie.

How simple it would be to hold you then

to sing my wild imperfect songs into your mouth

taste your salt skin and invite you in

no sharp corners, no broken things.

A simple, animal love:

two beasts promising nothing

yet possessing all.




KB ©5/2015