Revisions

You've seen this poem before in an earlier version,

but it's been revised and polished. So here it is again.

Bel Canto

I suspect that love
is an extraordinary guy
dressed in everyday clothes,
a wily clown that springs his tricks
and slaps his knee, chortling
in delight at coupled pratfalls.

I'd love to greet him, "Ciao bello!"
the moment he turns the corner,
sticks out his foot and trips me, skinning
my knee and making me feel like a kid again.
He'd guffaw and offer his outstretched hand
and I'd laugh too and shake it.

I'd love to serenade him with a song
or beggar Rumi's words recounting --
how fierce like a lion, tender like an evening star --
love dribbled warm and moist in the tender
cracks of his soul. I know, I know, he was talking
about God but love in all its forms is my god.

Right now I'd rather read Rumi and rejoice,
"I was dead, then alive. Weeping, then laughing,"
than recall how once my heart beat wild and fierce
until the assassin struck and love bled out.
But here you are, you miracle maker.
So unexpected on this close side of death.

Poem and images © 2010 Meri Arnett-Kremian.

All rights reserved.