Header art by Robert Joseph Moreau

Thursday, February 11, 2021

Joan McNerney

Love's Equation---for Michael

Hope the phone bill isn't too high.

All he did last week was call

me from out of town.

  

Today he finally came home with

three red roses so I made him

twelve blueberry muffins.

 

For hours we kissed under moonlight

touching his mouth with my tongue...

that electric tongue.

 

I put his two suitcases away

telling him to please be careful

with my clean floor.

 

Maybe one million times

I've told that man not to

make such as mess!

 

After twenty years, who's counting?

 



Present

 

You gave me

five brown pods

to grow in

my garden bed.

 

I put them

in a glass jar

with my locket.

 

Five brown pods

winding through

heaven.  Weaving

night with winter

wishes for wisteria.

 

In a flower dress

wandering over

perfumed fields

I sleepwalk

searching for

my golden locket

and your embrace.

 

 



To Michael

 

In this city with seven million shouts,

cars honking,  helicopters circling,

trains rumbling by.  In that rush of day

as the sun pours down, we escape

to the beach,  to our ocean.

 

I brought you three sea oats.

You gave me fields of wild flowers,

amid coffee cups, five hour talks.

 

To Michael flying, Michael riding…

Michael who haunts the streets

of New York, who lies awake all night

in Boston and roams San Francisco.

To Michael who sees with the

third eye, I give you my love.

 

In this city with seven million shouts,

cars honking,  helicopters circling,

trains rumbling by.  In that rush of day

as the sun pours down, we escape

to the beach,  to our ocean.

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