Love Poem Scraps
by Syd Shaw
There are enough love poems
to fill the earth; tongues, sun, fabric
in moonlight, parched lips. In love
pentameter becomes the worn out hum
of a failing machinery.
You are a dark-eyed bird
and my hands fumble your shape.
I know you more than your reflection.
The exact geometry of your cheekbones,
your singing-voice, laughing-voice, crying-voice,
snoring. I commit each moment to memory.
Grow ravenous. My tongue trips, words impotent.
On the desk a dozen poems lay half-written
and I have forgotten my words, wanting only--
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Syd Shaw is a writer based in Los Angeles. Their work appears in Ember Chasm, Snapdragon Journal, Waxing & Waning, Eclectica Magazine, Panoply Zine, and Coffin Bell Journal, among others. They studied poetry at Northwestern University. When not writing, they can be found reading for Passengers Journal, doing occult rituals, or hanging from aerial silks.
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