Love Poem

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Our two anonymous Valentines are poems written by former contributors to The Fairfield Review. --egh

Love Poem
By Anonymous

“Metaphor sinks what I meant to say.” --Erin Belieu

How can I
say the words,
form them with
my lips and tongue,
articulate
majestic?
They are too
large.
My mouth is full,
feasting on the
curves of vowels,
the delicacy of
consonants,
and the perfume
of white space.
I try a whisper
and it is
understatement,
smaller than
a comma—
even poetry
can do no
more than
sing in harmony
as background
notes, or
tap rhythmically
on a metaphor
as it sinks.

The flat-liners
talk of bright lights
at the end.
All I see
are suns coming
over the horizon,
and finches happy
in the dawn.
I am with them
and my eyes
and ears
are aflame,
blind without
a sound,
at the
beginning.

Please read the first love poem, Search, in this issue