In the morning it will still be OK
 
This is not who I love. This is not what I love.
Love is a god-stone, thick and sometimes valuable,
strong-wristed, one arc of a finger
stretching.
 
Love has the weight of god, the weight of Eve’s sister,
Lilith, and vomit, water mixed with salt,
A mottled permutation of tear strained skin,
pink and ordinary, thinly veined and iridescent,
the sigh of sun arriving into day’s orange blue.
 
This is who I love. This is what I love.
An evening of chimneys and steam,
a cloud of feather and frog,
green eyes. 
The great escape.



Michael H. Brownstein has been widely published throughout the small and lierasry press including Message in a Bottle, Cafe Review, poetrysuperhighway and others.