(1981 / New Haven, Connecticut)

Love Poem

If by truth you mean hand then yes
I hold to be self-evident and hold you in the highest—
KO to my OT and bait to my switch, I crown
you one-trick pony to my one-horse town,
dub you my one-stop shopping, my space heater,
juke joint, tourist trap, my peep show, my meter reader,
you best batteries-not-included baring all or
nothing. Let me begin by saying if he hollers,
end with goes the weasel. In between,
cream filling. Get over it, meaning, the moon.
Tell me you'll dismember this night forever,
you my punch-drunking bag, tar to my feather.
More than the sum of our private parts, we are some
peekaboo, some peak and valley, some
bright equation (if and then but, if er then uh).
My fruit bat, my gewgaw. You had me at no duh.

by Dora Malech

Other poems of MALECH (3)

Comments (1)

Dora, Very lovely! This poem has a kind of bottled up energy, and each line reveals itself at the right time. You pay close attention to words and the way in which they interact with one another, and I found your wordplay fresh in many places. I like the modern, colloquial tone you establish.