(Image by Wikipedia (commons.wikimedia.org), Author: Author Not Given) Details Source DMCA
Sonnet: A Love Poem
by John Kendall Hawkins
Nobody says "love" very much any more,
unless it's entombed in hipster snark
that circles the "soul" like Brecht's penny shark
meant to make you feel like some window whore --
the what-became-of defenestration
of the babe tossed out with the bath water
into Brueghel's arms, a bonny daughter
borne of immaculate penetration.
Maybe I'm the only one without "love,"
lost since the clowns were shot from the "canon" --
Mighty Whitey besieged by Frantz Fanon --
the high-rise tumbler when push came to shove.
No one knows my Romantic gravity,
my "love" as a splattered depravity.
(Article changed on Jun 12, 2021 at 11:26 PM EDT)