These simple words
Ink becomes crude oil;
my thoughts like seagulls,
coated in this thick black waste.
What makes it
so damned hard
to say I love you?
Fuck the seagull and the sea,
the tanker split and bowing
like a dream come true.
(Now would be the perfect time
to quote a bit - give rein: well-educated
and performing to the needs of poetry.)
Fuck that; I love you -
and besides: piss stinks.
You can try and hide it with chemicals,
called Brook or Woods or Tropical Fruit.
All to the sound of violins
but piss still stinks.
Love cannot be coated,
cannot be guarded well.
It’s kind of ugly in its need;
It’s kind of fearsome
in its greed.
It is not nice.
So fucking beautiful its shell:
the soft flesh open
to all kinds of Hell.
And yet, so fucking beautiful
these simple words:
I love you.