my love

 kafka captured love when he wrote how he wanted to hide his face in his lover until the world could no longer see them and they were one i would be content to disappear  from this world entirely because in the nape of your neck i have discovered a new one

 sometimes god calls me from a payphone he tells me there aren't enough trees he drops peaches and nectarines at my feet that aren't ripe enough to eat and tells me to wait sometimes his voice echoes through the underground sticking to the tracks telling me not now, not yet i see his face on strangers i've never met and friends i hardly recognise he reminds me about the trees there aren't enough i ask a question that he is still answering in prophetic dreams and the taste of the nectarines  sometimes god is in the pomegranate seeds that my lover shares with me lips bloody, unbruised he wipes my mouth clean before she kisses me he makes no apologies but i still forgive and plant the trees it'll be a while before i see them bloom maybe i never will but i plant them still