Rhyme **** Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I have not seen,
nor dreamed
that YOU could be
a being,
not a bubble
made of soap
that breaks apart
at the most miniscule
and innocent of times.
You held my hand
like that of a small boy,
you called me flowerboy,
but when you placed
on my stunned lips
that welcome kiss
I woke and stared
at what was sure
to be a flaw.
You did not waver,
you were clever
in your mind,
there was no room
(you knew) to let
the things unfold.
You came to give me
open season to your heart
and we closed wounds
to make a home
that was both bold
and real art,
you asked me would I
wash your hair
(without a comb)
and then I shaved your lovely legs
with utter care,
and little felon
who's in charge of tiny eggs
sat up each time
that words from you
prepared for air,
roll on the carpet
made of true Sicilian hair
you said the onus is
on us to synchronise
so I shall list here
that our names will make a rhyme.