Eden

In a time of fragrant falling, love Is something we rarely think of.  Our landlords Are just and sentimental; they love To visit our children’s birthdays dressed as landlords And blow out the candles that spell out LOVE FROM MOM.  Meanwhile, our parents’ landlords Can’t bring themselves to love The clogged drains, which sound like landlords’ Complaints to the board of inquiry, whose love By decree cannot falter, despite all landlords And all ships lost at sea.  The Love Boat has been repossessed by a landlord Whose intention is to restore it with love To the form in which it shall stand before its landlord To be judged at last; the open portholes love The feel of air through them, the jealous landlord Walking the deck in his pegleg and his love Of oranges, of a girl who does not yet know landlords And stands leaning on crutches waiting for love. In her dream the congress of landlords Rises to proclaim freedom, health and love, Abolishing all apartment buildings and landlords And rushing out of the falling capital to make love To their tenants.  We cannot yet imagine the landlords Who will come to us then, full of love And vigorous prosecution, landlords Whose faces we know from love’s Damp currency, famous landlords Whose movements shall be those of women in love.