And if we ever get tired of love —
if love ever loses its flavor, becomes
just a rubber band that we endlessly chew
without savor — what will we make instead?
We could enshrine wisdom, anger, or hope,
build holidays and greeting cards, art
and architecture, a whole world erected
to protect them and save them, enslave them
so they can’t disappear like love did when
it left us its substance, but took away
itself, its galloping heartbeat — love,
now as lifeless as any bird in a jar.


2 thoughts on “Flightless

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