the sword of love

the boy omega had warts and all

the girl ten had none plus all the songs of the sea

she told him with that ceaseless grace that clothed every word she said

you’re unique, your mind makes you beautiful

he began to see himself through her eyes

his mirror etched fair devil-may-care lines at the corners of his eyes

a confident gleam appeared in his all-too-knowing smile

he would wink at girls who would giggle as he walked by

but he stayed true to the one who had carved his heart

he took her hand one fine day and said such words

every finch in the wood stopped chirping to listen

even the salmon and trout leaned in to hear his voice

low and rippling with desire like the river water he spoke

a breeze plucked monarchs from the oaks that morning

the sun looked down benign as a queen from her throne

the girl hid her eyes–oh the universe to him!–

before she told him the other half

I heard the inchoate moan of that boy

who, fool, had gathered all his memories, hopes, and dreams

in a box he’d painted for her and laced with je t’aime and pink hearts

a delve into self that became a lake of revelation too deep to dive

when surprise, ice crystalized its top in a murmur

of let me clear the air, I have a lover and he’s not you nor ever will be

oh boy

the treasure you lost, was it worthless?

did you spend years shuffling a deck of browning photos, trying to recollect what was gone?

did you feel a cold, hot rapier to your heart whenever you saw her again?

or whenever you saw some anonymous man who might wrap himself around her at night?

if the world would turn dark

crumble into thunder and mockery

bat wings, mosquitoes

the boy would turn his back

and find someone else

some more elaborate fantasy to replace the union he thought he’d have

but the world stayed brightly lit and in fact smiled

it was, after all, her world

and the boy just one more floating leaf in the cascade of eucalyptus

that shook from time to time in the wind

as she cycled away