Tangle

Write a Love/Anti-Love Poem.  I am struggling with my lack of love for the purveyors of violent and xenophobic rhetoric, so that’s where I went today.

To practice lovingkindness
includes that tiny word
that stops me up every time.
Most, perhaps.
But all?

I can love the tangerine sunset
glowing upward onto aquamarine cloud.
I can love the orange orb as it falls
below the hills to my west,
and its ghostly echo the moon,
sailing behind a bank of gray to east.
The curling wisteria I can love,
and the earnest eyes of the fox kit.
My heart reaches upward, fiercely loving
the starlings in their whirling dance.

But so many layers lie between me
and love for the leering buffoon.
See, the language, even,
has to peel away,
and then anxiety’s rising tide
that eats away at the beach
of compassion.

Turn the next page, and everything
is colored by impotent rage.
How can I cast the line out of this tangle?

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