by Alex Taitague

I like my men more like I
like my wine     in a box     more like
mortadella in the mouth of a moron
more like vanishing amorists
after     the morning     after
more than was meant by mormon
morals and their more
          sexy propositions

Supremes     in the name of love     stop
more hurt than anything
more or less an amoretto
          more mortified
by loneliness than by mortgage benefits
I like my mores like I like

          my marriages
on paper because polyamory
is not bigamy     more or less it is
          homophone homology
          the more the merrier
     love overturns amorphism