‘Fortis ut mors dilectio’
— from the Song of Solomon, as inscribed on a necklace
my grandfather gave my grandmother on their engagement.

     love is as strong as death
                                                                          —this coffee is at least

                                   though when the flickering bickering of a lifetime
                                      is gathered up
                                                                    it is unable to fill even a single cup

                kept     in the small heart-shaped chamber
                                              of the house you carry with you
                                      everywhere

              we’re as close as jeans & skin
                                                                                 —like lint

     collecting one another from the airport
                             a week apart      we sit together now
                                    in the shuddering depths of night

            watching the staff head home exhausted
                                                                   from straddling time zones
from being so polite

joint like a bank account      our money
    is the same money
                                                even when the interest
        rate is variable:

                                         where do I put it all?

                where does it fit
                                          this misplaced romantic intensity?

                      the libraries are full
                                                                              & galleries
preach a learned disinterestedness

                                                              this will be an everlasting love

                           sings the cartoon baby bird
                                                                                                        discovering its voice

                              loving you makes me not believe in miracles

                                 but in life     & death     turning over

                                    like the pedals on your pushbike      loudly

                                              declaring their decay     & rust

everything tastes sweeter in the dark
                            that trust
            is earned
                                           —you learn
                                     not     to ignore the symptoms

       but to relish instead your diagnosis:

                                                                           to love the love you know.

Read the rest of Overland 243

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