IT STARTED WITH A BLANK CANVAS
Love is a blank canvas, a phantasmagoric fantasy,
to pucker up with glossy lips, the subtle soft brush
against the opposite sex, with eye-shades drawn.
Love doesn’t know the body yet, still sizing it up.
It doesn’t know the femininity and masculinity of art.
O Leonardo…O Romeo…Ah Juliet…O Venus!
Love craves the parts that match up, some the same,
others staining the cheeks, straining and draining strength,
magnetic and quaking, erupting and earthshaking.
Love weakens knees, draws attention from the whiteboard,
sharpens the brilliance of the sun, dots the i’s with hearts,
Nearly breaks the blank canvas with its passionate volume.
This canvas sans focal point. Bubblegum pops, primroses
afloat with ribbons and strings, ponytail tugs, pastels and
honeysuckles. Swings way too high - the girl, the guy.
|