Spring Song

of all this long life only one event seems real
touched and kissed entwined in your embrace
there were things I wished you would say, in your
lovemaking all burning questions sank, unwritten
melodies nestled on my lips; slightly off-cue
I dare not catalog their rippling tune, rapture beating
upon the smoke-grimed ground like rose-fingered dawns
have we met before in an incoherent dream?
you trotting along humming two lines of my song
drawing me close in rapid arpeggios, like an open
casement a note missing, all that brightness beyond
rushing in, a bough bending in the warm breeze
thin leaves swept summer-brown stirring spring
you are not perfect, slipping in and out like scurrying
clouds; distant in your masculine cruelty
I am afraid of your perfect beauty; mystical, so young
settling to sleep beside half-eaten chocolates,
vases crammed with roses, lilies, your breath
hot on my temples carrying sweetness of red wine
toes touching, arms clasped, your head on my breast
enflamed verses on loop, when I have these safe
in our metaphysical unity, what more did I need?

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