by Ralph Murre
What can St. Valentine have known about it,
having never met you ?
His notion of love incomplete,
his idea of dinner just a salad,
a small glass of Chablis.
What has a saint to say of love,
that he can remain saintly ?
I’ve known the meat,
the rich sauce,
Burgundy dark of you,
the fruit, the sweet, the dessert of you.
I’ve snifted your brandy,
been warmed by your fire,
seen you in the light of green candles.
You diminish my chances of sainthood
and I shall dwell in the house of our love
forever and ever.
Goodness and mercy.
~ previously published in Wind Where Music Was
(Little Eagle Press)