truth is in deep kissing
truth
is the soft shell of a
metamorphosis
truth is in the sun rising gently, murmurous, in the east
in a ceaseless search for purpose
in the way Death makes music out of us
in what has yet to happen
in what has yet to hurt
but how can you say truth is not
in misrepresentation; misunderstood art
how can you say it is not the love you feel
for every girl you've ever seen
               [the way you could almost melt as you
run your hand gingerly along her soft and her curves
and her edges]
how can you say truth is not a sin
how can you