A Love that Kills (an alba) by Michael T. Smith

Love Kills, stencil by Dr Case

I have felt now a mantra of love,
which was once like a wine glass too full,
which was brimming up over the edge
with what it does not want to let loose.

I have felt such a love that it kills,
so primeval in what it condemns,
who in comfort’ble trousers does stroll
and has only to let us alone.

But the light’s long, ethereal fist
must soon knock on a window’s shy pane
while the curtains do their best to hold
the young day at its bay from the eye.

And although we may fight it with grit
With a broken down eye and bent lid:
We are risers come before anon,
up awaking and meeting the sun

For it may not have been some way else:
us exsecting the haven of limbs,
us unwinding from warming embrace:
“I have felt, I have fallen, bereft.”

*****

Michael T. Smith is an Assistant Professor of English who teaches both writing and film courses.  He has published over 150 pieces (poetry and prose) in over 80 different journals.  He loves to travel.