Love

Who knows what love is?

Has anyone seen it lately?

…

A strange insect of twenty one legs and fourteen  mouths 

cecum to the gut

dead drunk

in constant rehab 

…

If you were fruit

you would have the skin of a peach 

and the flesh of a  pomegranate

but the taste of a mango

if you were an animal you would have a tiger’s head

and a tiger’s body

right down to a tiger’s tail

but don’t be confused 

you are not a tiger

…

Love’s derailed tongue 

licking the wounds

made with its own claws 

today you have stayed asleep

or perhaps hidden tired of battling

…

You are not under the bed 

nor behind the pictures or in the dirty laundry

I have also searched inside the recycling bag 

and in the refrigerator without any luck

…

Out there somewhere

you will be sleeping off your hangover

it is not a suspicion or a hope

is that your smell is not gone 

do not fool me

I smell your insides oxidizing

and the freshness of your lips

I know you are still here

lurking and smiling

waiting for me to drop my guard

to go right for the jugular. 

© Adrián Arias

Trans: Nina Serrano

original poem in Spanish here

Digital image by Adrián