By David Summerfield
PROMPT — What is Love?
My knowledge about a woman
Is that she is not like a man
A man is direct or should be
And powerful she too
Can be powerful in her own way
But she never seems to say
What she means and she speaks
In a peculiar language I choose
To call ‘Womanese’
But to taste the cheek or lips
Or soft nape of neck of any
One creature of this
Fathomless species is cause
To lay order aside immersing
Oneself into total uncertainty
And if savoring such a taste
Is not enough there is the touch
And feel of her flesh which
Is unlike any other earthly sensation
And in the absence of any fragrance
Or perfume you find the most perfect
And feminine scent is that which emanates
From the softness of her shaven flesh
And you suddenly find yourself
Forgiving any contradiction
Any dichotomy in what comes
Across as her being her presence
To see the way she fills the
Loosest jeans in a pair of heels no less
Makes anything she might be or do
Of no concern no consequence
And her voice especially the laughter
Is music you endeavor
To induce hoping
It comes in waves and will never cease
In any event to deny
That she is in some way affecting you
To the extent that you are prepared
To alter the very foundation of your
Own life would be as much a fallacy
As if you were to proclaim
You understood anything about her
At all
David Summerfield is a graduate of Frostburg State College, Frostburg, Maryland and a veteran of the Iraq war. He has been a columnist, contributor, and editor of various publications within his home state of West Virginia. His work has appeared or is due to appear in Door Is A Jar Literary Magazine, Carmina Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and El Portal (EUNM) Literary Journal. David writes from Elkins, WV.