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