Love poem for the non-monogamous

My love is not a bird trapped in the cage of your fingers

My love is not a patient record of each of the starts in the night sky

My love is a wilder thing then this

My love is a lion's hunger as it devours another living thing

My love is the sound of music over a car engine loud and late

My love is the pancakes I made and then compost last Sunday

Because I love to dream and I can let a bad thing go when I must

My friend Robin told me they want to build the wood and hope foundation of love 

From the ground up, add walls and a roof

But I tire of square shapes

My love is a language, taken, not forgotten

My love is the language of smells, I know it as I breathe but I don't have the words

My love is the language of a baby: new, full of potential, and utterly meaningless

My love speaks and I take pause and then 

I shout what I hear to anyone who will listen because to be known, 

For just a moment, is beautiful

My love is the wind and it is infinitive and powerful and chaotic and with time 

It moves mountains