Contrarian Love Poem #1, by Wes Covey
Often poets compare beauty
to things they never see or have.
“Lips of ruby, emerald eyes, golden locks,”
and all such nonsense.
To me, true beauty is everyday:
The curled bedcover, the tangled cord,
the angle of discarded shoe on wall.
“Your eyes sparkle like clean glassware.”
“Your hair shines like an attic light left on.”
“Your lips, the soft pink of a departing cat’s asshole.”
These are my compliments;
These, my words of love.