Saturday, September 11, 2021

Eternity is Jealous of the Present

Eternity must be jealous of the present, 
its immediacy, its relevance.
Yes, eternity must be jealous 
when a lover smiles and sighs, 
when she removes the clip 
which had held back her hair, 
freeing it and allowing me 
to slip my hand between the strands 
as if it were a bolt of priceless silk 
which she offers to me 
as a queen might offer 
alms to a beggar.
My fingers luxuriate gratefully. 
This gratitude and luxury 
exist only in the present, 
and so, eternity is jealous.

Eternity is full of 
inconsequentialities 
and coincidences.
Full of happenstances 
and miscellaneous occurrences.
But only the present contains life.
Only the present contains love.
Only the present contains potentiality and value.
Only the present contains her sweet kiss.
And so, eternity is jealous.

Sunday, September 5, 2021

Potion

I know not all the magic
she possesses, what
miracles she can perform.
 
When I crawl to her
and present my wounds
(as a Penitent,
seeking absolution,
presents his sins
to his Divinity),
from some hidden cabinet
or secret drawer she draws
a homemade potion
(which doubles as an
analgesic lotion).
She applies it liberally
to all my pains and sorrows,
and I am healed. She
pours it down my parched throat,
and all my thirsts are quenched.
I need no further evidence
of her holiness,
nor could anyone dissuade me
with any arguments or proofs.