Fugit Amor


At the Musee Rodin I looked for us

among the lovers. We were never that

fierce, a couple twinned in flight

white marble bodies all delicate curve

back to back, buttock to buttock,

lying across air. And yet.

How those arms reach over his head

seize her shoulder, her breast,

how she strains beyond his hands

free and fleet as a bird. They were once

a world lost, abandoned flesh, and in that

searing rush how could they not

fall apart? Look at mouths averted,

bodies caught in space. He is cast over her

facing the heavens, she is facing Earth.

Tell me, of the two which is love?