There is no death in a death

There is no death in a death that shadows me
or ships into my body like a woman who denies me the thrill of
not having her.

The place is the smell, the mystery of the first woman
morning coffee, opening the window
yhe father hanging the sea on the wall.

Anyone stricken by love calls me
so my enemies’ butterflies can increase.
Any girl who touches her breasts so two birds can scar my heart
will shrink away.
. . .
I love love when love recedes
I love the white lily
when it withers in my hand and grows in my song –
wait for me,
my song.

THERE IS NO DEATH IN A DEATH