(1.)

Oh, to succumb
       to your intimate joy

        when untenanted worlds

have fallen through me

and all veins have become
                  the beaten path.

(2.)

Oh, to know              
that my inexistence                          
is somehow finite

                               and

                                       so hopelessly mortal
                                       in the presence of that hesitant smile.

(3.)

        Oh, to keep   

    (somewhere between
     never and forever)

       rediscovering

that the antidote to atrophy

       lies in reliving

the limited infinity of love.

(4.)

Oh, to be
yours again

as driftwood in
                        tears

a forest
relinquished
in rain of the heart

as scorpion grass
spilling roots
            deep
            within
             skin

like the growth rings
that mark
the slow wounding of light

Oh,
to have aged
only nearer
and nearer
to you

despite the wandering tides of our lives.