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.