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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