Chips To Play
Like many poets before, I have tried all which-way
not to measure love – not to price love~
Like a post office puts sentiment to a ruler
meters jewelry purchased, already with the
weight of grief -- a romantically stricken heart;
a summarily discarded lover, hoping to
re-awaken a former partner’s
fond participation, given chance for another poke
at the fond lip, desirable pressure on the fond hip
Large teddy bears and cards
also weighed and measured before ship -- for occasions
missed, when wife, lover, child, having been sore-fully neglected
therefore get rightfully pissed
Even Nature, our Mother, greenly tempts, colorfully invests:
her seasonal erections of flushing, blushing, gushing
scenting blossoms, to entice passionate play
naked torsos
tingling, mingling, aromatic redden complexions,
sharing conjugal hyper confections
titillating beaches along winding capes
surfboard fanatics
attempting copulating acrobatics --
could man be little more than Nature’s
sophisticated, prancing, bathing, basking
swimming, back-paddling, saturated
zoo-like apes?
Does God purchase love
with fear of hell, therefore
man treasures love
like a market placing
calls on highs and lows
winners to shows
nose-bleeds
for pressured ups
while cushions
for the fearful falls --
keeping players
awake nights
for rosy to ripe
the tremulous trigger
the purring calls?
Copyright ©
Joe Dimino
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