Poetry |

“The God of Love Never Says It’s Complicated

The God of Love Never Says It’s Complicated

 

 

You are not Our first crush who ever spent

time on a court bench, prison toilet, or probation.

 

Your dented hood just makes Us wonder,

Is that where your boyfriend’s body bounced

 

from the car into a patch of bushes?

You say, I wasn’t even drunk, but blinded,

 

stated mildly, matter of fact and of record.

You take responsibility. Remorse is harder. Now

 

you’re sad that you can’t even visit West Virginia

where your mother bakes buttermilk

 

pie every day for you. We are sad too.

We like fucking you. We fucking like you

 

more each day and We’re sad to be moving away,

which, while eating lunch with you today seems

 

impossible. Did you notice how your Carolina blue

shirt spotlights your ivy-mist eyes? Your smile

 

will not answer this question. We’d like to paint it,

all that you wear when you are on a feeding

 

frenzy, when We feed you from Our body

and hold you like the emperor penguin

 

guards his egg. Your legs are hurting you today.

Fifty miles a week you walk because you cannot

 

drive. Your walk is wobbly, and We want to lay

you on your back again before We race

 

our sapphire sedan toward the sunrise place,

where ocean and lighthouse are skyline,

 

salt marsh and rotten algae smell mingle with

gull and foghorn sounds, the places We call

 

Home. Sometimes meaning ‘where We live,’

sometimes meaning ‘far away.’ In that same sense

 

We use the word Lover

to mean you.

Contributor
Anthony DiPietro

Anthony DiPietro‘s debut poetry collection is kiss & release (Seven Kitchens Press, 2024). He earned a creative writing MFA at Stony Brook University. Now deputy director of Rose Art Museum at Brandeis University, he resides in Worcester, MA.

Posted in Poetry

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