A small token.
I’m secretly sentimental;
Not mental, but eye-quietly:
A man framed for family,
A man given o’er to what that is—
Porchlamp lit, holy shit, and I love you.
Not a place for inhumane-isms,
But a seat for a smile at them.
Humor’s too terribly insensitive;
‘Haps why I grab its branch
O’er its limp-limbed chuckle-stem.
Sarcasm’s the best sink for them
Who burn it on a blanch;
And a perfect pot to piss in—
Remember me, girls, as shadedly soft,
—for Kiwi, Copperhead and Nonny,
Three of the very best human beings I’ve ever known. I love you—immeasurably.