Mark Gavoor: Your Birthday Poem

It is not possible
To write the poem of you,
Since the you of you
Permeates the me of me
Creating the
Coital spider of us

It is not possible
To write the poem of you,
I am too consumed
Scribbling with
My penal pen filled
With invisible ink
In the velvety vaginal
Book of you

It is not possible
To write the poem of you,
Since I get lost in the
Thought, dream, psychosis
In the reverie, image, reflection
Of loving you

It is not possible
To write the poem of you,
For no poet can capture
That which has no bounds
No definition, no limits
In the core of the brain
Base of the spine
Ventricular aortic joy
Of loving you

It is not possible
To write the poem of you,
As the words
Might spontaneously
Combust these pages

It is not possible
To write the poem of you,
Because brain functions
Cease at these
Emotional depths

It is not possible
To write the poem of you,
As it would be a waste of time
Since no one else would
Ever, no how, know way
In Heaven or hell or
Other places, possibly
Conceive of this level of passion,
From the likes of us

It is not possible
To write the poem of you,
Because good poems
Demand the loss,
Absence, erosion,
Deterioration and general
Decay of love

Copyright Mark Gavoor
August 14, 2001
Miami