by Kerry Hammerton
What is this love that I am longing for?
Will it be like a shaft of light in a crowded
forest or a gentle rolling fog that blinds?
Will it hit me full force – pile me up
like a car wreck? Or gently ease me
out of my life, like a tide shucking a shell?
A shimmy on the horizon that never turns
into a mirage? Will come without warning?
Will the weatherman predict its arrival?
Will it be like an uncloaked sun
that turns me into dust and ashes?
A love so fierce that the open
secret of who I am will be hieroglyphed
forever on my face. I want a breathing
space for words to filter through,
a skylight for the rain to fall on,
a staircase to tumble up. I want
to be love-sick in love, stained with love.
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