love holds no regard
for anything but it's own interests.
she is an extraordinary machine
of exactitude and fire.
what cradles us is also
that which swings the blade.
she will offer
a brave new world
steady things of temporal importance
and she will burn your house down
faster than a New York minute.
love is a doppelganger;
just when her likeness comes into focus,
a careless blink
will wash it all away
.... and the feeling she leaves you with
you will chase after like hell.
she burdens herself not
with the responsibility of proof
because her existence is lawless.
but you can find her attestation
in the placement of things;
a lion in the ocean,
shoes by the bed,
the blood in our flesh,
and the tessellation of our souls.
