Post-love triumph.

A layered cake opens the trampling tour
and pummels the tramps that lay far or near.
“Come here, come here,”
She says.
And I come.
We lay together and for a while are happy.
We listen to the oaks cry. “Wind!”
We listen to the rain fall,
and turn in sheets
riveting the raveling flesh
as we soak each other in.
Forget all else and everything turns to mush
turns to flesh,
turns to love:
Oh, Love!
That magestic addiction, that flourishing prayer!
You’re back, you’re back!
You weren’t gone for long at all,
We have so much to catch up on,
to discuss and delineate.
Why did you leave at all, red thought?
What made you change your ways
if not only for a short time?
Who wrote or writes that essay
A chiming sound in our ears
that opens hearts and minds,
that cheers,
that sits up beside the clock
listening attentitively for the phone to ring?
Why hears and who what when where…
I’m lost again, and found all at the same time:
Love, oh, love,
You come in like a sailors mist and roll with tide.
Love, oh, love
You’re inside, you’re outside, sunshine.
And we never have to hide from you, love
for you come with gifts and smile:
On a white horse
With two, three seats, Love.
You’re mad, you’re mad.
And thanks so much, love,
for coming back to the next.
You never should have levied.
I’m yours, I’m yours
again.