A Modern Love Poem
does not depend on proper nouns,
a full moon-boon companion blend,
nor big band sound authority
make-it-real inculcation begs.
No, current trends insist we take
our curiosities outside
for air, bare our skins in public
until we stand invisible.
The shadow cast by nothing is
a moth’s breath, the footstep of fish.
Words can be infinitely moved
meaning nothing, garbled nonsense.
Tell everyone this poem is yours,
how I handpicked each turn of phrase.
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