Poem: Compulsive Repetition Ghazal

The bottle form, fluid—what if
A love so violent unwanted persists.

An enraging desire with just a whiff
Despite advice, I still persist.

Nothing else matters, I must admit.
I am not myself, unless you persist.

The bottle breaks, it cuts my fist.
The pain is broken because I persist.

You touch my lips, call it a kiss
I cannot get enough, I must persist.

Addy and I, it was an informal tryst
We are not allowed, we shouldn’t persist.

This article appears in July 2010.