Of course Venus has a missing arm

Van Gogh a missing ear

elusive is what love is 

but love can know what love is not

how many daisies sacrificed

cards turn, crystal balls gazed

seeking is, heart knowing, is not

when all is fair in love and war

they become indistinguishable

was it ol’ Walt turning cards

on slick Willie? Willies wants

Venus in their parlor, Muesette in bed?

Is Monica now our patron saint

while Willie keeps bombing the children

we split our tv screens and wonder that

brains and tongues split

we can not say what love is

love re-invents itself each moment

we can say what love is not
 
 

love is not an ear or arm

or something tolerated x number of years

in silent desperation

not security nor old age benefits

does not cry "he/she ruined my life"

of histories of love turned war
 
 

it is in desperation Venus cries

with Tolstoian voice:

"Love only passes thru the abyss"