Forbearance Poem by Jan Sand

To love her with my eyes,
Her contours ripple out commands
To key internal chemistry
With visceral demands.
Secretions echo her geometry.
Her scents attack, belay me
As a soft and heavy breeze
Waltzes with the rapt and supple trees.
But my meaty succulence
Comes subdued with caution,
For momentary efflorescence
Must sustain, to make the thing significant,
A years long structure,
Threading passages of doubt
Through dissonant intentions
Which scotch the heal of love
Then fractured into sharp edged shards
That score deep, with crafty comprehension,
Parts most tender.
It can be patched,
Using glues to make the whole;
In some cases,
Stronger than before.
The lines of join
Can be a celebration of integrity.
But more frequently
The edges do not match.
Sharp, they lay in ambush
To pare off the heal
With new fractures to reveal
The hopelessness to make the whole again.
These thoughts gentle the imperatives
Of biologic bloom.
Time, and educated temperance
Direct me to enjoy,
But not to touch
The magic of the moment
That could get to mean too much.