Nothing’s Coloured That Impossibly Red

Not To Mention Love: A Heart For Patricia (David Clewell) is a love poem I rather like.

“Here, the heart is the heart, and isn’t
a fist or a flower or a smooth-running engine
and especially not one of those ragged valentines
someone’s cut out, initialed, shot full of cartoon arrows:
the adolescent voodoo of desire. Here nothing’s colored
that impossibly red.”