Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Every Way Is Perfection

Every day
every day you come to me,
a lover bearing fruit to assuage the hunger pain.
Sometimes you are hidden in the forest leaves
or riding in the evening air
but always you are the soft curve of lust
that eases my doubt.

I cannot deny you when you come so clearly.
I cannot dismiss you when it only requires
the intake of breath to find you again.
I will take you as you come -
imperfect or stilted,
concise or clipped in tone,
sonorous or gently sung.

Every way you arrive is perfection.

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