Jody Azzouni


The madness that they say is love

Originally published in Slant XXIX, Summer 2015
Added 7/25/2017
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The madness that they say is love

Poem | Jody's Notes


Your gestures are flesh,

and you are beautiful

(richer than any language that I’ve ever heard).


And yet, when you actually talk,

you believe things that I can’t believe in.

(Are we really meant to be together?)


I wander into churches now

(because you do),

not like a demon

(because there are no such things)

but like something from outer space.


(In church I always have at least three arms.)


When others bow their heads,

when you bow yours,

I pray nothing happens,

and nothing does.


Except for an organ

and a lot of murmuring.


The stone makes things cool,

the glass makes things dark,

and I try to see what you see,

be what you are.


A loose sadness in the air;

because there are things now that are gone.


You wonder if I liked the service,

and I take your hands,

squeeze them.

Hope that they move while you are silent.