Better for it

& if it wasn’t love,
if you called me now
across the old echo chamber of the ocean
& said:

“ Look, I never loved you,”
I would feel
a little like a fool perhaps,
& yet it wouldn’t matter.

My business is to always feel
a little like a fool
& speak of it.

& I am sure
that when we love
we are better than ourselves
& when we hate,
worse.

& even if we call it madness later
& scrawl four-letter words
across those outhouse walls
we call our skulls—
we stand revealed
by those sudden moments
when we come together.

Erica Jong, Becoming Light: Poems New and Selected

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