Love is a Humanism

Hide and Seek

Who knows why God won’t let me in
on my own secrets?
What is this world-space-time?
What are all these blue mondays?
What are all these green-grey afternoons?
Who is this being I have felt?
She is without apologies.
She is smiling with her straight teeth.
She is running through red lights.
She is smelling of hand soap.
She is kissing my mouth.
What is this wonder she has left
in my pocket, under my finger nails?
What is this word she is letting slip
past her taut vocal chords,
past her loose lips?
What are all these rose-colored mornings?
What are all these dancing dawn lights
and brightly cosmic whisperings?
God wants his secrets back,
but she is hiding them in me.
They are warm and sweet-tasting.
I hope he does not think to look
here, in my body, for the stars
and the smell of magnolias
blossoming in the spring.


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