How It Is
if you
roam around
a w h i l e
and peek in rooms
not yours
you might glimpse
a love that lives
in private quarters
unphotographed
and frameless
against the prying eye
the pickpocket
true of any love
if that’s what
you would call it
and maybe why
you’ll never read
a word about it
or watch it play
across the screen
you might pretend
to know
how it is
and think
you’ve held it
once or twice
but unless
you’re standing
in the room
to feel it
how would you
know it
how could you
know it
how it is
TL