Marshall Gass


There were capital letters
shouting at me from every corner
of the page where I huddled
at the last knockout blow:

Love has a funny way of expressing itself
it lurks silently in photographs,
one-liners, red faces, swear words
and internet roses gripping and clipping
memories and magic into tight little balls
of lust and longing
less spoken more said
and peeks out of its quiet hiding place
now and again. That's love?
Its never sudden but slow and casual
and funny and faint and building
block by block until it feels complete.

At last when the windows are installed
we can look in or out
and feel secure by the four walls
that were built by bricks of words
that sat tightly embracing each other
to keep us safe in its cocoon.

I think everyone wants to hear it
spoken softly or shouted.
As for me
I like them like the knock-out blow

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved,19 days ago

- See more at: http: // by-Marshall-Gass#sthash.5mDyY9ne.dpuf

Submitted: Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Topic of this poem: metaphor

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