Very romantic poem
by Marge Piercy
My love, youíre a well behaved furnace
that doesnít run out of oil at two a.m.
when the temperature touches zero
and icicles hang daggers on the gutters.
My love is a great three course meal
that doesnít stuff you to regrets,
a sore belly, but fills you just right
so you can move but donít want to.
My love is a day in early June,
everything up and waving bright petals
and shiny leaves, clean as a kitten
warm so you can loll in the grass
still tender enough to chew on.
My love is a book you donít want
to put down, ever. My love is
an endless bar of dark chocolate.
You are the joke that doesnít wear
out with telling. The recipe I donít
get tired of cooking. The face
imprinted on the ridges of my brain.
Copyright © 2011 by Marge Piercy.