For Love of The Word “Love”

Poets grabbed the word “love.”
And they kept it for themselves.
Does that surprise you?
Who else is out there bragging about
whatever rips their guts open?
You think lawyers do it?
Firemen? Doctors and nurses in the ER?
Those guys have real problems.

So the poets took “love” for themselves.
And as something to spit on
to give it the worn, greasy shine
that comes from too many nights
staring at ceilings and empty bottles.
And why not?
Who’s going to move you more:
Romeo and Juliet bleeding all over Verona
or Rick and Stella next door
arguing about what goes in the recycling bin?

Poets perform under the big top
of their own importance.
They’re both clown and ringmaster
in the circus of need and rejection.
Yet the world is starving for “love”.
Somebody has to keep it breathing.
Cops aren’t going to do it.
Truckers aren’t going to do it.
So the poets step in.
Hell, they were already bleeding anyway.