Poetry Is

Sex with God;

He, teasing me with first

lines, first longings, letting

me respond in kind

words, lines, we seek

 

the names of things —

hollyhock, rosemary,

milkweed —

testing syllables,

rhythms until we

consummate and create

new life, old meanings,

new vision, old beauty.

 

And we surrender to the song.

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