With your Diogenistic sneer
and a dismissing toss of your head
you say that Love
does not
can not
exist.
“Love,” you say
with rolled-up eyes
“is a dreamed-up
wished-for
state
How can man
kneee-deep
in filth
know Heaven?”
So I pick up the wishy
that has blown
to the grass
at your feet
and humbly blow it
Skyward
