The Obscure Delight of Being in Love

Being in Love

I  just finished a beautiful conversation with a poet from Indonesia about being in love. This is about being in love—an almost imaginary conversation between two poets from two different time zones!

Eason Chan clears my heart covered with a storm of dead leaves. I say that strangers can turn into invisible cities at the touch of Calvino, and I explain to her that being gifted the Invisible Cities is a caterpillar begging a blacksmith to flatten the setae into wings so you can fly. When she talks about love, I feel as if it is me. She talks about Mr. Palomar referring to keeping things whole, and I connect the dots drawing over the two, the poem by Mark Strand.

I want her to feel amazing, to feel beautiful and strong. I want to see her grow in this moment because when I was in love, I squandered every bit of it, trying to hold on to something so ephemeral. Of course, I found myself a nutritional supplement; I have my pup wanting to rest on my shoulder.

At this moment, I am so full of appreciation for her talking about love and how she feels so different. I persuade her to make love as she would breathe. I tell her not to think of the future or the past, just contain in the moment’s bell jar. See, here it is, the bell jar still waiting for Plath’s return. I left Plath a long time back; that’s what I told Dustin when he drew a comparison of one of my poems with Plath’s.

I tell her that it should be such that I get to blame you for living a perfect love. No, I don’t tell her so. I am not Sexton; I am Linda, so fallible and coward of death that I blame the knife for getting hard on my skin despite every self-assurance.

The two will be in a poetry class now. They don’t sit together to prevent any visual discomfort. They will be poems. They will be lit, and they will be love. On my end, I feel like a witch basking in the warmth of their intimacy. I want the whole world to be in love because these short hours wither too fast. I wait for her to come back and tell me her story. In life, I don’t want love overhead; I want it as passive flu.

This Post Has One Comment

  1. Addy

    Great content! Super high-quality! Keep it up! 🙂

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