Failed Attempt to Say: I love you.

(I love you, a thrumming heart; and I must qualify such love.)

An evening is weak without a soul—a woman your mind. I

grip and pull, lunging spirit, ever to perish your eyes. You

grab and tug, nailing words—falling and gnawing knees. So

cry a night, where spiders crawl, and swim a thought; for I

love you: enough to part rivers, and gut fish, sick for love

and rhythm. Feel as instrumental plunges into reality, and

firehawks swoop into a groove, where inhibition deafens love.

I ache your mind, kneeling at an altar, sacrificing both meats

and fruits. How do I love thee: enough to carve both brick

and wood; enough to immortalize such love; indeed, enough

to ignore unsaid lovers. I love you as a moon descends into day;

as sun descends into nations; as stars hide and float in stillness.

Indeed, life extends your beauty—ever to perish a slight

remark—tottering upon skates, falling into both warmth and ice.