‘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
If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue
