I WILL MAKE THE MOST AVERAGE LOVE TO YOU


Soon after good morning, you look up and left to cry,
mouth all cockeyed,
remoistening your lips rapid fire
like we work in a convection oven

every day, it seems, my office or yours.

You loved the idea of him
and you, wool pulled taut
across your foresight.
Tell me about it, all day, forget the time
and what is due.

My sweetest missionary,
stay frail. You will never love me,
stronger. There are bigger men,
truer, New England-er, muscular.

On the off chance you
lose your better judgement,
steal mine, skip a week at Bible class.
I'll promise you this:

I will make the most average of love to you,
be an average lover.
Will never leave my wife and kids,
could never.

Oh, but for those hours I cling to you
like war to this earth, we will smile.
Oh, dear God,
but for those hours.



the love letter collection
submitted 12:14 AM EST
Sunday, September 13, 2009