She In Norilsk

I cringe,
I recoil,
I weep;
But I am a human being:
I eat,
I drink,
I sleep.

The ice melts
To supply our need.
The world turns,
Upon our unending greed.

Bears drift alone,
On broken ice.
Lions are hunted,
In reserves.
All of life
Seems to pay a price
For the bill
Humanity deserves.

But the day of reckoning
Is not for the world.
The world knows revival.
Look to you, human.
To your children,
And our survival.

Once upon a week

If you make love once a week,

You’re still in love,

They say.

I am confused.

Modernity has made

A breath, over the ear

That reaches down

Into the reddest corpuscle,

Into a statistic.

How many words

Indicate love then?

How intense should be

A look?

How long should be

A kiss?

How many pages are

Too many,

Too little,

For a book?

Should the book be read

Fast or slow?

If you cannot read me,

Then who would know?

It takes time

It all takes time.

The sun is brighter,

The snow caps lighter.

Statistics abound.

The world is ending.

The sun was too hot

For humanity.

The sun will win.

But their stats

Can not predict the when.

I know the breath.

I know the book.

I know the sun.

I know the look.

In relation to me.

Give me the stat

And I will accept it and

Place it to read

Years later.

If the sun hasn’t won until then,

I’ll validate the importance

Of a week.

Half Life

In love, I’ve lived a half life.

My family lives exceptionally:
Think of a mom who welcomes
All the lovers of a gay son
And asks them tea.
Think of the lovers
Who live and breathe free
Partaking of my home
And most times all of me.

We are no saints though.
There are none on earth.
But there is just one
Discrepancy.

Peeps say, I am so very lucky
To get to share all of me with those
Who can never share all of theirs with me.
You see?
I am lucky to be able to give my home to those
Who keep me out of theirs.

Convoluted.

If you look closer,
You will see,
I am no saint:
Being selfless isn’t morality.