I thumbed your
name through particles of dust
That laid a ruin
on history’s prescient page,
Whose years have
tumbled down to this exchange
Of vows between
my hunger and your thirst.
The karmic wheel
has spun me to your spell
And heartward
with the turning season sped.
The fuse of love’s
first fever charged the nerve.
The cells of
our dead selves have taken shape
And congregated
at our Eden’s
gate,
That you might,
from these ghosts, my face discern.
Though haunted
compass needles train true north,
My muscle’s
magnet craved your southern port.
Today I turn
my burning hand to craft,
A constellate
of planet, sun and star
To animate the
keystone of the heart;
A miracle of
water, rock and staff
To nourish the
marrow of the cosmic bone,
And make to you,
my wife, this gift of love.
