I Shout Love

I shout love in a blizzard's scarf of curling cold, for my heart's a furred sharp-toothed thing that rushes out whimpering when pain cries the sign writ on it. I shout love into your pain when skies crack and fall like slivers of mirrors, and rounded fingers, blued as a great rake, pluck the balled yarn of your brain. I shout love at petals peeled open by stern nurse fusion-bomb sun, terribly like an adhesive bandage, for love and pain, love and pain are companions in this age.