Half measures

I didn’t fall in love like a regal queen
distant and apart from what a woman needs
or like a cleaning lady, a washer woman, char,
working every day to make love go away.

I’m somewhere in between like on the half-hour
or midday in the middle of the month of May
but maybe I’m a star in the galaxy of heart
close but many light years away from the moon.

I fancy the moon; it reminds me of you
smiling from a distance but essentially unmoved
by the half turn of a lid on a jar of essence
never opened fully to escape imprisonment.

And in this world apart love’s only just a half
of what it’s meant to be and what it’s meant to do
and that’s okay because we too are half of who we are
living in a time where half measures are decreed.

I love in part and just that half no one can ever see
but I can’t say that’s okay; it never is okay
to cut in half a fulsome heart and sup halfheartedly
because it takes the spirit out …
of a damn good wholesome meal!