Getting Serious


The tentacles of growing affection
play with ring fingers, sleeves, corners of eyes.
We convince ourselves the monster is our own invention,
exalt the beast when friendship would suffice.

 Two incipient lovers lock arms in the park
and seem to be waiting for a lesson to begin,
but teachers don't touch this stuff; besides
the feeling doesn't let the didact in.

 In weeks the arm of one is getting restless
and the soft sign of love prickles, annoys
so that a faith is getting questioned very gently.

 The surprise is not that the beast has wreathed them
but that it bolted quite so easily
to leave them with the stickiness of choice.

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