after Sir Andrew Motion
(Andrew Motion on how to write a love poem)
Totally took the toolbox to the task, tib.
rhetoric repurposed, to the red rhythm of your rib.
I love you.
More than that,
you're flawless! Perfect! What?
Sorry, right. You're right, that's ridiculous.
No but seriously... what?
Why are you laughing?
When I open my mouth to speak
and I know you can hear me,
the room becomes an echo chamber:
all *I* can hear is me, too. The sythms and rhounds as I
sputter and stoonerise words for which
there is no dictionary definition.
But then, there *are* no words for which
the dictionary definition
clomes cose to what I'm
sighing to tray.
Really? Right, right.
Back to the drawing board.
(I love you. You're beautiful).