An Indomitable Grace

People keep thinking that old lovers 
who told me I was too—
baroque, erotic, unyielding, fervent, exacting, earnest, snobby, much—
live only in the part of my heart 
that condemns injustice 
Or in some resigned alley of youthful naïveté 

But my heart has no hell 
And anyone once loved
is always loved, no matter how little earned

They live in a box of childhood toys,
each yielding stories 
And a host of playtimes
If they were presented to me again 
I might not play pretend 
But I would hug them close
And smile