My true love

I'm really lucky because I have a true love, my companion, whom I photographed in Benidorm. That was when our love summer turned into something very weird... and this poem by Stephen Gyllenhaal is necessary here in this post.

TRUE LOVE

"I catch it again: the reflection of you
(so much more stunning and true
than all the Marilyn Monroe diamond snow
sweet sewn seeds of success,
sucked so clean boned from the glory fish
of breast and beast and queen blood flow
to kingdom combed clean toothbrush fresh
my dream come through more red, white and blue
than my first view of Playboy magazine
that it undoes me completely.)
Your strategies succeed so mercilessly well
below the hard-wrought structures of civilization
(architecture, zoology, French, mathematics, etc.)
that your ligaments are attached to mine.
And, even though I?m 3000 miles away,
I fall to any knee I can find every time
your stone hard commandments are invoked
(far more potently I might add than
any golden calf Sinai ant hill version they sold to us
for worship)
because you and me are playing for keeps, babe
(womb powered, moon gathered
peace entreaties not withstanding).
We cannot risk the earth spinning
off her candy axis, can we?
Or can we,
even though my half thoughts stutter
at any view of myself
(mirror, photo, video
camera or mind?s eye snap shot),
because, of course, it?s
you
I see,
you
I carry
(baby inside me
that will never come out.
never cry, suck, piss or whimper
as I did,
this one will stay inside
what ever there was I was supposed to be
so you, my mist of all the silver cinemas,
can eat her way motherly to lunch in bed
and nap on the wine red blanket to heaven)
unless I do something
now."
For my dear wife, Naomi

Copyright 2006 © Stephen Gyllenhaal
taken from "Claptrap: Notes from Hollywood"