Love, Actually

Poem about the different kinds of love according to Greek philosophers: erotic, long lasting, homosexual, pedophile, motherly love at all costs

Do you remember when we traded

sweet fingers in summer heat? Gramma

has those cookies - baked with a ‘special

ingredient’ - in the jar, if you’d like.

On Sunday evenings, she’ll turn on the

phonograph and waltz with Grandpop

to Nat King Cole and we’ll watch. No, I don’t

need another popsicle - just your company, alright?

You went to the land of blurred lines and all you got

me were shades of Humbert Humbert, spiked

margaritas, a Symposium cheat sheet, a cat lady.

Dear Sophocles, even polished arguments

will not justify the plague of the Catholic Church.

We wave a rainbow but the stigma is not gone.

Carver knows. What we talk about when we talk 

about love, I'm not so sure. Morrison too?

Plum burns downstairs -- it’s all the same.

I guess, when they strip us all down,

we search for the choir of scars.

Author's Note

Any feedback greatly appreciated!