Whoever invented this love

Whoever invented this love


Whoever invented this love,
Was the same one who invented flowers,
and whiskey,
and green green grapes.

Whoever invented this love
Invented the sweet suck of smoked tobacco,
The smell of wet pores and wet earth,
And leaves,
Kissing cousins
Of sparrows and parakeets.

And whoever invented this love
Planted it in the center of my body
Where it seals the cleavage of my soul
Below the interlace of my ribcage
Where it pulls, where it fastens,
Where it gasps
On certain evenings --

As if
Flowers aren’t enough and perhaps
As if
Flowers aren’t really true,
As if it
Longs for me
and
I was not
Quite
Invented yet.

1989