If not Love, then
by Ken Hada



for Dorothy and Devey
on the occasion of their marriage,
for two who embody
the opposite of what we fear



a field languishes
overrun with cedar
cheat grass, sandburs
fire ants and sagging wire
a dusty creek drying
in August sun
breezeless, unrelenting

if not love, then
dingy lights distract
stars which do not matter
since we have no time
to contemplate
their fiery descent, our
place beneath them

indoors we huddle
behind glass, curtains
closed, doors locked
pretending the world stops
at our doorstep
if only we had courage
to open and touch

to sing with morning birds
on the backyard fence
look for crocus lining
the walks, know
chicory and lilac
living among us –
if not love, then

we spin our days never
finding, never holding,
never engaging …
pointless rusting, turning
us inside out – Earth
patiently waiting
our sorry exit










Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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