by Ted Kooser
One of the ancient maps of the world
is heart-shaped, carefully drawn
and once washed with bright colors,
though the colors have faded
as you might expect feelings to fade
from a fragile old heart, the brown map
of a life. But feeling is indelible,
and longing infinite, a starburst compass
pointing in all the directions
two lovers might go, a fresh breeze
swelling their sails, the future uncharted,
still far from the edge
where the sea pours into the stars.
For more, including the poet reading his poem and a few other love poems, click here.
A bonus one for you (because I can't resist, and love Ted Kooser):
"The Celery Heart"
CELERY HEARTS: 98 CENTS
—Placard at Hinky Dinky
Surely it misses those long fly balls of light
its leaves once leapt to catch, or longs to run
its roots out into the salty darkness.
What once looked like a Roman fountain
is now a ruin of fallen columns
bedded on ice. Its only consolations are,
at regular intervals, the hiss of mist,
and at times the warm and reassuring squeeze
of passing hand. But better this, by far,
than to be the sullen heart of artichoke,
stripped of its knives and heavy armor
and mummified for eons in a jar of brine.