Frank Carellini

Love is like that

 
Love is like that—        a weapon.       and your
hands pull it tight into a bow,                        your saliva
on the tip of its shard             parting a forest
to find a single tree.

The tree is                   me
and my            canopy            bends under your
weight.                                    in the metro    you
are the way     away between blurring trains.

My hands        smell of oxides
from holding the keys to       you
for so long      unable to find a door
wandering in              the corridor

following                     deepening iterations of your
voice into the dark.

Previously published in Hobart, Apricity Magazine, and other gracious journals, Frank Carellini primarily focuses on poetry.