Love's Vicissitudes — by Jessica Fisher

First you were hungry, then you were in love
and thought everything had changed, oh the sun
and the birds hidden in the trees, their presence
proved by singing. Happiness, you thought,
was given freely, the balance books
with their neat columns and faux leather covers
had nothing to do with it: this was not
like a wartime grocery, everything given
but on the short leash of credit. Abundance
and glory: that's it, it's been here all along
and as in the song the lovers sing as they cross the bridge,
you just didn't see it, didn't hear it, before.
You are willing to believe in a world where violins
begin to bow of their accord, where a phrase
turns into a refrain and everything rhymes. Go ahead,
ridiculous one, say it's the springtime of the heart.

First you were hungry. Then you were in love.
Miraculous transformation, the path between
a labyrinth. Once you walk blinking
into the sudden sun, know the two will always
be twined. It is an outrage and you are outrageous
in your failure to distinguish between what ought
to be opposites, love and hatred, for example.