THE LOVE EMAILS FLY, THEN STOP

I kiss each word,

individually the wings of the words,

individually the souls of the words,

the commas, the periods, the thrill

and the passion, and finally

your name.

Then with the Delete key I obliterate

each word, the wings of the words

and the souls of the words, the commas,

the periods, the thrill and the passion,

and finally your name.

I obliterate that vertigo,

the swaying from no to yes,

the loss of balance

and the collapse of one into the other.

I obliterate the towns and the trains,

and the embraces in that summer,

I obliterate the daze, the rains and the rooms,

and you, enlightened and confused, nude and white

amidst the rooms, with the three marriages

and the two Germanies, I obliterate you.

My omniscient, crumbly parchment,

as priceless as if pre-Christ, undeciphered,

I obliterate you with the cold sores

from that feverish fall,

with the air sweaty with flu, palpitations,

moans, melding, sleep and more, and again.

I obliterate you with the aspirins, the drops,

the chamomile tea, the eucalyptus balm,

which I rub slow and long

into your slow and long body.    

I obliterate you with your naïve oddities,

with the vanity, with your pouting lips,

with the all-embracing arms

and the incinerating fingers.

I obliterate you while you are dreaming of soup,

engrossed in a book, enlightened and confused

omniscient, beautiful

and loved, I obliterate you,

and thus I obliterate myself also,

I obliterate love,

because we do not deserve it.