All the good things lose their magic
once we name them
and place them
so flat against out tongues.
Once we catch them in language and bind them,
force them into something as
fragile as a word.
That's where they went wrong with love.
They should have left it alone
just the chemicals in our blood and in our brain
that might taste like cherries or sulfur
but you'd never know the difference anyway.
Then people would have trembled at the thought of it
this great and unknowable thing,
just like a germ.
And we'd beg to feel it
we'd fall on bruised knee and ask to be
This force that takes us
and changes us
so we can never be the same.
We'd ache for it, bonesoul deep, in this dark place
that hadn't been touched since the world was just a tangle
of life inside its cradle.
We'd take it in like a part of us that we'd missed
and push it into all the crooked parts
all the corners
and wait for it to smooth us
to consume us
to make whole what had been born