page 19

In Defense of Romantic Love

Having crashed like a moth through a jungle of legs leaving them all weeping willows, I, grew pale under her meaningless winter sun smile and made sightless anger my trembling wall, until, the sheer size of it's shadow turned my ears to the tune of the moist warm red tounges and lips whose bitter owners say

there is no love
at
all.

— Yet
this pen has an aura
I cannot deny that
the tension, the sex, and the huge tears you cried
in defense; were like dirt
that you threw in my eyes:
It was to save my sight
that I kissed you goodbye.

— But

I'll not share ambition with the children who plan candied empires from cots while they take what they can, in the meantime; this dream, this Romantic Love, that flows like a rose past green river banks and explodes like sparks from the dripping pens of bachelor poets (like me) to bitter laughter from you — loud enough to kill the cries of your fourteen whining children for a while —

for me
is still
the only
kind
that will do.

— Because
I'm aware of the risk
of destroying the view
of the cake
by eating it
too.

Jonathan Scott