If I want to write about love,
I’ll do it in AB positive, universal
receiver. If I want to write
about love, I’ll make it count.
What do I have to say about it?
Love is honesty and saving the last
slice of German chocolate cake.
It’s more than domesticity.
Love is a smoldering pile of leaves.
It’s a notebook filled, written
to the bitter loving end.
Let me define love.
It cannot be defined.
Abstract mathematics is full
of glorious gaps. Love lives there.
Love is a Thursday. Love
is a rogue wave toppling
fishing trawlers and research vessels.
Love is calamity. It’s smelling
the End of Summer and singing
from the back porch.
Love is nothing.
Everything is love.
Interesting approach to a love poem. I think your opening stanza needs work. I was confused why you suddenly referenced blood type and then abandoned it, and the rest seems like a warmup for the poem that is about to come. The first line of the second stanza could be deleted. From that point on, the poem becomes more focused. It is an interesting work!