Saint Valentine

Liz Stephens

my valentine
has a hard time with words
my valentine
is not a flowery bent on velvet-clad knee
proclaiming to me on a secret stone garden bench
valentine

my valentine is hard knocks
get me to the probation office on time
leave me alone with my misery whine
valentine

my valentine chokes out the words I need
like chicken bones
caught in his dog’s gullet eat too fast throat
spits them up with discomfort and relief
and then I pat him on the back to soothe him
there now, you’ll feel better now
with that out of your throat
and so will I

valentine
box of chocolates we’d both
eat from with both hands
late at night midnight gluttons
for sugar-coated good wishes
like pink satin ribbons stolen from little girl’s birthday parties
anything that smacks of dreams
we had when we were knee-high
to a grasshopper and protected by
a forest of adult knees
anything like that we eat fast
and furious like the still beating
heart ripped out of a horror movie prom queen

my valentine feeds me
mostly dreams instead of words
makes me see a wide open
storm filled horizon
maybe I’m losing my taste
for sweet chocolate words anyway
this year I’m not getting flowers
but this year I’m not giving flowers
I’m giving him a book I wrote
every page says valentine

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