I love my love with a D
because that’s that—
or here, that’s how

you do the third person
present, indicative

in Ainezalandian.

It could be he, it could be she,
it could be this or that,
dis or dat, some say back there.

I love my love with a D,
because that’s that.

                  •       

I love my love with an N,
because that’s the sign of the past,
the gesture for confession yesterday

or earlier, in Ainezalandia

making apology easy. The sign
for place and for time. The wink
of that woman in the intimate you.

                  •

I love my love with a K
because that’s what work is.
And it makes the plural.

The cricket says so, too, in Ainezalandia,
in secret. Or—clickety-click—he does say so
too, in secret. Like clockwork.

                  •

I love my love with an O
because of the inclusivity:
the mystery of the graffiti—
where that came from.

All of these many last years and years

and even right here, right now
the O infixed in dear Ainezalandia.
I love my love with an O
because of it.                 

                  •

I love my love with an E,
a tiny dialect, much loved
in Ainezalandia:

Everywhere anyone can sing it
it is per se per se—
needs no accompaniment.

Anyone can speak it out loud,
avow or requite it, love it,
in his/her/its own E-landia

and know itself loved.
Whence my love with an E.

                  •

I love my love with an H
because of how
they decided it:

the spellings in Ainezalandia—

what was going to be silent.
I love my love with an H
because of that silence / this silence.

                  •

I love my love with a T
because he looks like a terrorist
and isn’t one.

In Ainezalandia

I love my love with a T
because he looks like a terrorist
and isn’t one.