How I Love You: poetry

by Bruce Bennett

How do I love you? I don’t have a clue.

It’s quite the mystery, I must confess.

I’d cite the ways were it not hopeless to,

yet even so, at times, it’s fun to guess.

It’s that you’re, well, you’re absolute perfection;

the sweetest, dearest, kindest soul alive.

A beauty, certainly; there’s that connection

between your looks and how endorphins thrive,

in fact, go haywire at the merest mention

of you by someone else. I hide my blush

not very well, distracting their attention

as best I can, while conscious of the rush

of blood to my extremities, my heart’s

confusion, my head’s ambush by other parts.


This originally appeared in Dogwood 2005

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