Love
They say that love is only
a yearning of the flesh,
and needs the body's lonely
hunger to keep fresh,
but I, too often choosing
to keep the two apart,
have learned, to my own losing,
that love is of the heart.
The body's deprivation
is fed on what it takes;
the heart finds satiation
in every gift it makes:
the body rues its giving;
the heart has no regrets,
but keeps forever living
what faded flesh forgets.
-- originally published in A Glass of New Made
Wine (Poetry Salzburg, Salzburg, 1999)
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