words in love
I do not know why you punctuate my thoughts.
Your eyes are a full, heavy stop
of space, time, arrested desire
for delicious things, dark things to be devoured and
be devoured by.
I am terrified of those clauses, the weight of that immeasurable if,
a thousand ifs beating against the door of my lips
I shall fling them to the wind;
I have no need of clauses, with you.
I have no need of gilded adjectives,
cheaply bought and quickly spent.
Give me your nouns:
fire and honeyed light
ash and earth
lips and kiss-bruised skin
Give me your verbs, your glistening, ripe words
naked, free, perfect;
from that strange and secret place,
this brave new lexicon of