Working Conditions

by James Tate

Because you are the bridge for me
to cross over into myself
you stand there in a curve of lace
holding white carnations,
your face shining in laughter
like a waterfall over my head.

I love you, I love you
full of wasps and spring air,
full of travels through stormy nights
in Balkan countries, taking the whole world
inside us; because we never learn,
because we stumble, we fall hard—



and the balance of chaos
has given us this chance
love dedicates its strife to us.
 

Poetry.gov

So the Library of Congress is seeking poets with poems on the themes of either love, or magic and magicians, or names, for the Poetry at Noon reading series. If it were worth the time and paper and postage, what might be appropriate? Something with a little magic and a whole lotta love?

Nuremberg, U.S.A.
by Bill Knott

In this time and place, where "Bread and Circuses" has
become "Bread and Atrocities," to say 'I love you' is
like saying the latest propaganda phrase . . . 'defoliation'
        . . . 'low yield blast'.
If bombing children is preserving peace, then
my fucking you is a war-crime.

Or else something that ditches magic altogether, but still sticks it out of love:

"And When Freedom Is Achieved . . ."
by Kenneth Patchen

You have used a word
Which means nothing.
You have given a word
The power to send men to death.
Men are not free who are sent to die.
Only those who send them are 'free.'
You should have freedom stuffed down your fat throats.