Bewilder me, uncover
me, weathered beneath
this storm of your entry.
Shapes turn violet
inside touch, outside us,
from starving winds.
Words carried forth
towards parched lips.
Someone said to me,
“Can love define everything
when Heaven’s throne
fulfills hearts of nothing
upon coatings of dust?”
Hand your answer down
to a child’s certitude.
Those bedsheets are stifled
in a winter’s air.
Covered hands, buried lands,
weeping while eons await us
to exhume us, on to
starvation and summertime.
Touched hands, shadowed lands.
A leaf overturned with a gesture
to see our lips become united.
Uncovered, to see a sun
welcome us from one
to none.
Modern Romanticism 