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Earthquakes on Mars


We spent a lazy day looking and talking;
didn’t plan on buying. But we found a tall
Mexican pot to go near the front door
and a night table for the guest room.

Yesterday, I made a big batch of my Mrs.
Dash simple cabbage soup for the week.
That is when I started to think about what
if one of us died, among other important
things.

You wouldn’t know that my heart has
changed; intimacy like I’ve never known it
or understood it. I’m not talking about mere
spurts of love-making here, there, and
everywhere.

No. Sadly, I know how to do that pretty well
without my heart.

No, my love. I mean a restored heart with
a new intimacy that I want you know; I was
a wreck thinking that I may never get to
tell you that a softly spoken “I love you”
makes earthquakes on Mars.

That is why I had to hold you this morning,
touch your hair, and listen to you breathe.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:

alslaff

Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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