LOVE AS ANTIMATTER

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LOVE AS ANTIMATTER

 

 

If I should write a poem, a frivolous endeavor

of emotional disdain, the implications would

suggest that the temperature in Hades has dropped below

thirty-two degrees and has held steady as it should.

 

If I were to write a poem, assuming sanity

had finally succumbed to it’s more staunch opponents,

casting a heart’s skepticism into the abyss,

it would be to trade a fool’s caution for a love’s kiss.

 

If I were to write a poem

it would imply that life as

I know it has run amok:

resistance is out of luck.

 

If I were to write a poem

if would be an ode to the

demise of a protective

nature exchanged for shared bliss.