My love is like unto a book, the kind
you fall into, some day too dark to stand,
to bear. Beside your bed it lies; you find
yourself transported to a sunny land –
the tale might storm, or snow, or blaze with heat –
but still, it’s somehow better there. When life
has left you cold, these gathered pages greet
you with a constant treasured warmth. No strife
can stand against the ones who live within,
whose troubles may be worse. And yet you see
yourself in them, an echoed self, a twin
who takes your hand and pulls you close. May we
always share a shelf, my love, and interleave
our sheets. Such battered, lovely lives we weave.
on Valentine’s day, for Kevin, of course, and for Jed, and also Roshani and Alex and Kirsten and Lori and my sisters and all the others who have loved me, whom I have been lucky enough to love.