Welcome to a month of poems. Welcome to Poetry Month. Welcome. This year I am going to share my own poetry. Gulp. Such audacity. I grew believing that poets are gods and goddesses. I dare to enter the temple.

April 1. I am not the best at playing pranks. But spilling love onto the page? Oh yes.

The Space of Love
(for Emily)

What is it?
A canvas?
A room?
A stadium?
Does it begin empty?
Is it crowded with hopes and desires and fantasies?
Or does it empty as one appears and
Comes slowly into focus for another?
Is it a place where the edges of two
humans become so sharp
so crystal sharp
they are electric to the touch.
What else is in this so-called space of love?
Perfumes?
Flowers?
Or simply the salty smell of warm skin?
And what about the light?
Is it lit by the sunrise?
Or twilight?
Are there candles burning or have they been
Extinguished moments ago
so the smell of wax and smoke lingers after services.
Maybe that what it is: A church where we pray
to be known
to be taken to ecstasy
to find redemption from loneliness
Maybe it is a drawing.
A simple line drawing
With a vanishing point
Where two people meet and become
Larger than they were
Before.

©Lindsey Lane