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.