When I ask him:
do you mind that
the you in these poems
isn’t always you?
He answers:
No, because I am the you
that is coming
the you, that is promised,
that is on his way.
When I ask him:
Do you mind
that the you in these poems
is another? And another?
And probably one more?
He answers:
No, I don’t mind
because that you came, and
did the damage he could,
leaving you in pieces in his wake
And he answers:
You see, mon amour, I have
just the tools to fix this,
just the stuff to put it all back together,
the only stuff that lasts a lifetime.
When I ask him:
Do you mind
that the you in these poems
is someone that isn’t you?
And he answers
Mon amour, my love,
as long as I have
the you
that is you,
I don’t.
Commentary: I think this poem is fairly self-explanatory. It is part of my April exercise to produce and publish an entire piece of writing every day. I actually wrote this a few days ago, so technically that's cheating. But I love the one I wrote today, so I'm debating between submitting it somewhere, or posting it here tomorrow morning.
