Love, if I may call you love, when my first
glance dove to stare, studying your stature
there (though seated on narrow bench), my thirst
for deep caress returning with rapture
of the deep, my eyes orbiting away
then back again, feeling our brief distance
would never narrow to touch, just what swayed
you toward me? Would Al Einstein call it chance,
how joy of gravity drew us closer?
Would soothsayers cite the full moon neighbored
by Venus’s magic glow? She chose her
holy light to show us just who we are.
And so we closed hands, said hello, agreed
to go our ways, not knowing where they lead.
Roger Armbrust
October 23, 2010
