Love's A Bad Child

Love interrupts
the easy running of the house
like a bad child dashing through
upsetting everything
with its bad child feet
making the floors complain.
Its bad child elbows
knocking things off tops.

And its temper
is that of a bad child
How it bangs doors,
makes the blinds rattle.

Love won't do its piano practise.
And it twists itself in sleep
until it's locked in the covers
waking itself up, grumpy.

Bedheaded, red cheeked
love makes something of anything.
Runs a fever
then wants to sleep in your arms,
like you've forgiven it.