As we are so wonderfully done with each other
We can walk into our separate sleep
on floors of music where the milkwhite cloak of childhood
lies
oh my love, my golden lark, my soft long doll
Your lips have splashed my dull house with print of flowers
My hands are crooked where they spilled over your dear
curving
It is good to be weary from that brilliant work
It is being God to feel your breathing under me
A waterglass on the bureau fills with morning…..
Don't let anyone in to wake us
The deer is humble, lovely as God made her
I watch her eyes and think of wonder owned
These strange priests enter the cathedral of woods
And seven Marys clean their hands to woo her
Foot lifted, dagger-sharp—her ears
Poised to their points like a leaf's head
But the snake strikes, in a velvet arc
Of murderous speed—assassin beautiful
Speak softly; sun going down
Out of sight. Come near me now.
Dear dying fall of wings as birds
complain against the gathering dark…
Exaggerate the green blood in grass;
the music of leaves scraping space;
Multiply the stillness by one sound;
by one syllable of your name…
We must be slow and delicate; return
the policeman's stare with some esteem,
remember this is not a shadow play
of doves and geese but this is now
the time to write it down, record the words—
I mean we should have left some pride
of youth and not forget the destiny of men
who say goodbye to the wives and homes
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