I’d trade prayerbeads for millstones
If stone could grant what lips have wished
And manifest for my solitude
All the weight of kissing I have missed,
Blessing my bed with your beatitude.
All the burdens of the awkward ox
I’d shoulder as my own if only
Hours, not days, remained till I unroll your socks
Next to mine, white stripes on the lonely
Divan pushed back and piled with busted boxes.
Here I wait in a penitent’s house,
Whose heart’s all roses and runaway kites,
Whose curse is time–who has kissed eternity
And tossed her socks next to mine.