Category Archives: Love poems

Walking around Agara Lake

Yesterday, I walked around Agara Lake, when the sun set
Trying to retrace my footsteps
As you walked by my side on another day like this. 

We talked about… what was it, exactly?
About how we will be friends forever.
And we made fun of disapproving old men
Who looked at us as if we were about to kiss;
We laughed because we should have.

We called other people conservative,
Walking dreams trapped by the enslaving of their lifegivers.
We made excuses for their bad behaviour.

How beautiful it all was.
The full trees, the shattered-glass shroud of the lake
And the complete lack of birds. The ability to sit
Still and feel nothing, except oneness with
The dusty-pink flower that swooned as it fell from the tree.



She drifted away with his cigarette smoke before he could catch her
Imprison her
In a green glass jar.

How long will you be gone, he asked,
Not looking up from violent but quiet scribbling in his book.
His pencil plundered a stick figure, a dead flower.

Till the silver on my anklet fades
Till black doesn’t hurt anymore
Till when the ship sails off my shoulder

Then I’ll be back for more, she said.

A knife glinted, his hand  a ready, righteous Brutus
Her skin a sheen of love, glowing, nonchalant
Till he knifed a lost ship and tainted the brown of her shoulder

“No sailing away for this one. Ever,” he said
Grabbing her snake-hair and pouring her
As she sighed in relief, into the green glass jar.



Song of the single mum: Date night.

Of course, you love flirting with me.
I make good conversation, take care of my hair
Fingers, feet and breath. I have a pretty smile
You could parry intelligently with me
About most things, except maybe frogs or chemistry.
I know a little about a lot of things. I fake it well
I will tell you I’ve enjoyed having dinner with you,
And acknowledge privately that the wine is helping my charm.
The night is full of possibility: more talk, more wine
But as we get to your place for that one last drink,
And you kiss me, having shoved me gently against the door,
I have to issue a little warning
I may not look as old as I am, or as if I’ve given birth.
But good genes don’t bless away the grapefruit skin,
Or moonlight scars on my soft stomach
I have a Caesarian gash, which might turn you off;
And breasts that have been functional and on display,
Unintentionally. Effects will show
So if all that matters to you is a fun lay,
A little variety between the sheets,
Turn off the lights, be a man and let’s play
But if there’s going to be more, then leave the lights on;
Let the night go beyond my poise
And shine its drunk light on my imperfections.
Do you prefer less woman, I wonder.
And would I bore you next week? If, that is,
You last beyond my xoxo-note in the morning?


I found you dusty and unkempt, under a carpet of ordinary lives.
What should I do with you, I thought.
You, a reluctant gem, you sleeping genie.

Should I dust you off and set you in my ring?
Or should I let you be to sleep peacefully,
Happy, content, unawakened?

Could I give you hand-mirror, I thought,
Just so you saw your fire, your deep red rareness?
And then kiss that flame to life only to burn in it?


It is that time, my darling
Where we take our walk
Because, of course, it is a such a beautiful day
A day with the salty promise of rain
And wind with a death wish.

But mostly because our lies are caught out
Yours and mine.
Our ‘i love yous’ and tender assurances
Of joy and forgiveness, of kindness and compromise
Are a drizzle already, a prelude to this evening of rain.

We had vowed, once, to be honest
Even in the face of vehement denial,
And fragile perches in life.
We lovingly promised each other brutality
And faith.

And now when I tell you that I need more
Or you tell me you try, all i see is opinion
Not objective honesty, not truth. Just
What I think
What you think.

Shall we renew our promises, then, or make some new ones?
For example: Ignore, overlook, back off?
Or shall we optimistically assume love will conquer all —
My wet towel and your leaving light switches on?
Or shall we let the rain wash us and our promises away
And vow never to have any more?

May 27, 2009


This is love, then?

This forgiving when you
Storm off to the other room
Pleading exhaustion
When I toss and turn
On an odd insomniac night,
Sorry but I need to sleep, you said.
So do I.

This is love, then?
This learning to erase
With 4 a.m. poetry and a cigarette
Under a speeding, psychedelic fan
And a tottering 40-watt bulb.

This, then, is love.
Your tender smile in the morning
Your entreaties to you tell you what’s wrong
Your switching on music of my choice.

Your taking, your giving
My insomnia, my writing.

This, then, is love!