‘Is This Love?’

Photographer Najib Joe Hakim

Is This Love?

“She seemed, anyhow, all light, glowing…”

Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

Come, kiss me on the lips, Virginia.

You’ve been dead longer than my mother

has been alive, yet you inspire ardor:

the inflorescence of your prose, comma after comma.

You outclass me, I know—such poise.

Beside you, I’d only gaffe, a Jew with frayed 

cuffs, my every mood childishly displayed,

my clothes wrong, my vowels those of the hoi-polloi.

Still, I long to tend, to attend you—a devotee!

I’d write your fair copy, stand guard

over the sacred hours when you wrestled, like Jacob, the Word.

Tell me: Is this love or terrible jealousy?

Oh, but you are dead, and all I have

is your simulacra, an ocean between me and your grave.

 Devon Balwit edits for Works in Progress and broods. For more of her work, visit: https://pelapdx.wixsite.com/devonbalwitpoet