I Love Her More

She has a name hanging
in a back orchard somewhere.

Cowbells are ringing. I gave it up
like an omelet to a woman married
to perfection.

I am missing limbs for limbs,
heart for heart. Who am I to promise
life to another broken life?

Her name stands on a balance beam
between two tongues, heated tongues,
a melting puddle of ownership.
Where did she come from?
Where does she belong?

Tug-of-war. I own her more.
Someone who should have been born
is hanging in a back orchard somewhere.

I let her go. I love her more.

6 thoughts on “I Love Her More

  1. Wow…this is good stuff. What a strong opening: “She has a name hanging/ in a back orchard somewhere.” That stopped me cold. The rest is spot-on, as well. My brain’s a bit fried from giving exams today, so my feedback isn’t great, but I look forward to read more of your work. I write poetry, too, though not as much as I’d like to these days.

      • English and humanities these days. Used to teach English in public school…shudder. No more of that.

      • I could only imagine what that would be like. I am grateful for blogs because of the strong number of people that actually enjoy reading writing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s