love and death

You are the kiss that burns my two lips raw--
   The drink that licks my tongue with a new taste,
The sight that makes my eyes go wide with awe
   And my uncertain soul feel damned and graced--
The tapeworm I can’t feed enough, the hole
   Nothing can cover, nothing can fill in--
The champ who slap-shots hope into the goal
   Past my defenses for the final win.
You are the black ice that my skidding heart
   Is totaled by--the dish I gobble up
So greedily I choke--the serving cart
   That brings me champagne in a poisoned cup:
      The certain death of callous apathy
      That buries me in love’s vitality.

Copyright 2011 Matthew J Wells