Sit with me then and in a quiet voice
tell me everything—every thing, every
feeling and every imagining, and if you can’t tell
me all, tell me what slivers you can
and I will listen with all the ears of my heart
and will hold you with the dark of my skin
and the yes in my eyes will reach toward you
and fill in what is unspoken. I would escape
with you in these gaps between what we say
and what we intend. Do I frighten you when
I am close? You startle and I want to soothe
the alarm till your gaze is gauze and soft.
Some days life’s garment has lead in its hems
and the weight makes each step desultory.
Some days the starlings refuse to fly and the sky
seems barren and the blood feels thin.
Let’s begin again. And again. Come sit with me then
and in a quiet voice tell me everything. Let the great night
swallow us whole. Let the great night enter the room
and erase whatever we fear—I love you, I love you,
it’s not enough. I love you, each inch of your body,
each scintilla, each cell, each dream. I love you. I love you.
I walk toward you all day on this bridge that we build with each breath.
I love you. I love you. I’m walking toward you. I love you.
I’m here. Now sleep.