Wendy Sullivan

What is love, but
the sad sweet taste
of knowing...
a truth without an armour
to hide behind:
no words of weaponry
in self-defence...
a body bared in every sense 
alive and quivering
resistant to the earthly circuit:
thus shocks abound
violent jolts of adjustment
- high peaks of frequency
to low troughs of energy....
the laws of attraction
and repulsion
- the magnetic poles of parity.

The winds will blow
and the sun casts shadows
- seasonal sport
for Gods and Kings
while we children
stumble headlong
(haunted echoes)
just toys and playthings,
fragile leaves
in Autumn arms -
held, then tossed
as so much lumber
flotsam floating
on the hard hard gound -
structures shredded
into driftwood -
			yet love lifts her skirts
			to every spring.

E-mail Wendy

Panic! Poets

Panic! Art Gallery