
Then I recalled her kind smile/
and how she wears hats.
Bone of my bone,/
conceived of/
our joyful response/
and laughter/
over an indie film/
proves we’re not the title.
Hell hath no fury/
Like a woman scorned,/
And life knows no pain/
Like a poet ignored.
Thou who hast stomped and/
crushed my heart, when hold we our/
next business meeting?
The last spires went on/
the burned church, lifted my heart/
and filled me with joy*.
*hope
Where others may see/
anger, I see tenderness/
and open caution.
When we learn that we’ve/
come home, it’s often because/
we’ve opened our doors.
Is my writing enough/
to win her love?/
I hope not.
But it could be a start/
on the pathway to her heart.