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Friday, December 05, 2008

Sing Love

If love could sing a song,
would it sing to me
to tell me the greatest
verse of my life? - or a final song
when this lifetime
is done, to be the last thing
I will ever hear;

will it sing from the mouth
of a rosebud, with notes that fall
like heat-scented rain
on a hothouse roof, or steaming
earth, or rushing
with the flush of sea foam
and river-locks full of life -

will it hang like twilight,
lacing day's sight and
mingling sound and fire,
with sunlight shooting
up sinew and bones,
harmonious musical light,
crying and sighing in turn,

or with melodies
that cut like a knife
to sting desire, pulsing
in the chest of the night,
be a lullaby that kills sleep
to leave desire awake
in its deepest deep?

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