Love Koan

 

you could never forget

 

that you’d been born by yourself

 

in the heated margin

 

a nearly lost pulse

 

gripping, white knuckled

 

to existence.

 

 

 

I discovered your great wound

 

this blossom in your side

 

destroying you

 

carrying you

 

through storms

 

falling towers

 

and more

 

like the

 

arch of an instep

 

before the nerve’s been cut.

 

 

 

in a heart

 

thought forever sterile

 

I took you

 

within me

 

beneath the tongue

 

as a saint or bread

 

holy as communion.

 

and the hidden world of your body

 

that sought me and my heart

 

in the night

love poetrypassionpoetrysinta jimenezsinta jimenez owenssinta jimenez poetrysinta jimenez writersinta owens

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