The Notion, Forsaken, of Love

By Ivy Collins Poitras

No notion appeals to me less
than love. Love
is the absence of sense
and assailant of senses. 

Who in their right mind
lets their right brain
lead them right straight
into a siren’s lagoon? 

Why must the gravity, the creeping depravity
of this hunger take advantage of me
as much as any
foolhardedly fortuitous
hopelessly hopeful
helplessly helpless
sappy sucker?

Why, O gods above, not let
the sailors of myth
the romantics of old
the guppy-faced dreamers of now and forever
be the fools swept off of their tipping toes
into lashing waters, happy,
and leave my soles
sole and safe in the sand?