Distance Is The Mean Poem by Ivan Donn Carswell

What is the sign beside the road that makes
the line dividing states of love as clear
as sigils blessed in your taxonomy?

I wonder what it is that bleeds the tease
of care into a lake of nothingness
if wayward love departs its flimsy scene

And are the ways to best express this grate
between the states of ‘love’ and ‘not love’ clear?
They’re not I fear – and never ever were

If there’s a border edge between the love
I bear for you and that expressed as not
a disaffection then where has it gone?

The cues are spare and far between because
you flew away; if distance is the mean
today of comfort’s share – an answer’s there
© 19 September 2009, I. D. Carswell