Love Letter 330 Beyond the Red Carpet

Do you need a street sweeper, My Love?

One is who is messy, or beautiful, or made out of wooden doves and a chariot with golden legs?

Do you need a Mrs. Clean?

Someone who carries on and on at length about the size of her petunias?

or wears her heart, like a dragon, on her incipient sleeve?

How about a strong wind, or a swoon of Goliath locusts to devour all your foul misunderstandings and derived misleadings?

I have a sponge, my love and a small brush

and my lips go together to inhale or exhale the dust

I have long hair

and a small cart made from recycled imaginings

and a trinket or two which can be welded into a wild underwater vacuum

but I have knots

and kinships

and drafty hinges

and wings which drag on the ground

Your scarlet wonder is calamity in drag

and your malignant pointer is truly a soft caravan of art

I hum in the temple and the shower

I say your name both in prayer and radical disgust

I abuse all of your commands and legends, and then

I bow down to them, I drape flags of them, I quote them on my t-shirts

is this the veil or the unveil?

is this the pauper, beggar, meek, or ambassador of penance and finance?

is this the way, or the unravelling of the only way

is this the fruit or the poison apple in a snow white forest/orchard?

Do you need a second to think about it?

or

are you always ready to say

yes

even when I ask the same question in opposite directions?

Have you need of a maid

or is my circular logic enough maelstrom for your already pristine heart?

am I a banquet beloved, or am I just one beautiful famine

after another?

bumping into God's door

fishing into your pocket

I can do my best, but only You will know me

no matter

what

is under

my carpet.

and I rest in this.

even with my apron on.

Your Beloved