Poems about love - …and They Fell In Love

…and They Fell In Love - Poem by Lucia Daramus Lucia Daramus

I wander from one letter to the next; the commas have their own point
they make me see what the poet means when he asks:
what would you like: the sex, the idea – the Greek tragedy, I reply,
now acted out in my palms. they are Electra, Alcestis and…
the whole madness at once, its teeth sunk in me deep …
I can sense your white doctor’s coat and then I live
back when I was mad, I was mad when
I was mad then, I was mad
I would give out the Greek tragedy – it’s now on in my palm
I’d give it away for…
The car goes on and on, this is not you in the driver’s seat
It’s the poet – I’d like the sex, he tells me
Failing to see how in my right palm’s Greek tragedy
You have been crammed stiff in that mole on the heel
I stand, as tall as Ovid
Preserved in a love potion vial
I stand tall and aloof, like Dante, conducting
The sardonic laughter tragedy in the Inferno
Only you fail to meet my deep destiny’s line.
I smile. wafts of cheap booze. A coachful of symposium poets
And I … I… the tight Steppenwolf hide restrains me within
My soul gone stale like Christless creatures of bread
The film is now on in my mind
I am bathing in each and every brooklet of yore
Which the poet graciously lovingly points at through the window
I am imagining the scene so I can tweak it as I see fit
It is not him after all but your lips pressed against mine
Which make my waters of pleasure ooze free
The car is reeling in the potholed miles to the lake of gold lilies
Going past streets, boarded-up stores, off-licences, drunks
And two side-by-side poets, each wanting of love
Each dreaming of their own new after new love;
Out of their two separately imagined poems the commas
Are staring intensely across…
I take the medical treatise out of my grocery bag
And feed on it wolfishly
In hopes that some disease will catch on from its entry
At least our commas – the commas of our gastroenteripoetic texts –
Might fall for each other … or perhaps we? ? ?