no more love poems

they don't make sense
anymore they go
nowhere the bridge
is out the water
too fast to swim
and I know what would
happen if I jumped
in again

and I wonder what
I would write about
instead there is
nothing that comes
in second

you were like that too
all the others
vanished even from
memory as though
they'd never been
or at best never

no more love poems
the old ones too sad
even to read now the new
ones bite the tongue
like a bad cigar

it would be better
not to save
any of them
better just to
let them go

watch them rise
as smoke rises in a
still room
to a level plane
then cooling
slowly descend
as dust


© 1999 by
michael mcneilley