Valentine's Day

When love comes gnawing at my ankles on nights like this,
it is plausible that the shaven head of the life I have chosen
is glancing around at the party to see if any of this hunger
is justified.

When my daughter demands with no sarcasm, "Next time, let me choose for you.
You are not good at this." I might just let her dress me
in some other joy, woven of the finest gauze and with adorable wings
for movements quick as a humming bird
and twice as fierce.

With armor made of feathers and plenty of air to breathe,
who wouldn't swoop near dandelion fluff
just to watch it scatter seeds
into a great big world of sexy sky?

Instead, I lick the envelope
and slowly seal the card into place
with my initials and a heart ready to burst.