Sonnet: 3/1992 Poem by Carl Bowers

Sonnet: 3/1992



I think that no one loves theology-
only lusts after it, imagining
that angels dance attendance on their words-
as if words could constrain the God of angels;
as if mere words might tonsure souls to love.

Perhaps no one loves lovers, only love,
and lusts to feel love's fire as their possession
displayed and then betrayed upon their face-
as if our lovers' lives were our dominion,
as if our fate defined our lovers' grace.

And perhaps I loved someone, and thereafter
lusted, or yearned for love from many others
most truly; and yet I found most truly
nothing made new. Not one of them was you.
11-11-92

Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: love and loss
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