Once, Once

At one time some people believed

that the elephants

had sex but once:

No wonder such a memory!

Once, I thought love was measured

in some mean distance of imaginary numbers

from whole digits to infinity squared.

One perfect combination. (The tumblers

turn and twist.) My sandpapered fingers

bared to the wrist. But secrets hide

            in the between.

Once, love was obvious as the ebb and

flow of ocean is to charts and sailors.

(But sea, O sea – you scene of unseen

sights – you graveyard of mariners –

a gale, a new leak, or a sleeping watch,

and your white wave just swallowed me like bread

            unleavened.)

Does a lemming really embrace the sea                                                                                       

with a lover’s greed?

To know the sea, roughly

one taste’s enough.

                                    But what about love?

--Duane Vorhees