Valentine’s Day in Portland Maine

by Myronn Hardy

You wear the red sweater   alpaca.
You stand closed-eyed as the red sun faces.
Someone has taped paper hearts
to car windows    buildings red with brick.
You recall a sword. It slicing Alexandria.
Epochs exposed to Alexander’s
founding    seafoam against land.    Language
has failed because there isn’t language    not for this.
Espresso in a blue cup    effervescent
water in a glass    your eyes remain closed.
You’re the lover of love yet you love
with ice.  You may not know this.
Knowing is the danger of pomegranates.
Each seed insisting scrutiny.