I write a love poem
and they read it.
I say my lover's eyes are oceans, or galaxies
and they understand.
I say I long for the feel of the curve of her waist
and their hands feel empty.
I say her comfort is my earth
and they smile inwardly.
I say she is larger than the world
and they grow confused.
I say she is older than music
and they become wary.
I say she is God
and they sigh and put the book down.
What can I do but sing of my love,
her hands like fields of wheat?
So I will not tell them the secret part,
only that her mouth is a river I kneel and drink from,
her love makes dawn arise in me,
her voice is like rain.