I’ll write you a poem
that praises you so well
it’ll glow in the dark.
—from “Cliff Top, East Coast,” Norman MacCaig
You and I are made
To judge each other:
Your lips are unbeautiful,
Away from mine.
And you would say,
Your face is no light
Without my sun of a heart,
One that will make you
Glow, burn restless
Like ember. I will hate you
For this, hate you
Like arrows, points sleek
Dug deep in targets
Crimson red and round.
I could say that everything
Of you is a wilted petal,
A disappointment
To the promise of blossoms.
You could hate me next,
Bring fire and brimstone
To the filth of my words.
But I could not muster
The strength of stones
To break us apart.
Because, still, you and I
Are made to judge each other:
You do not deserve this.
You deserve neither praise
Nor poem but a truth like love
That cries and glimmers for you.
