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I Love You More

In the morning when we first wake up

and our hearts are soft and pillow cupped,

we climb down from our elven trees

tinged in silver dreams and red-tipped lust,

ford forbidden streams into the world of daybreak whistles

and the filching crows that come for dead dogs eyes,

and laugh with all their hearts at us,

the stuff of sky and clumped with dust

as we travel to a place we're never going.

And we think of love as love once was,

or how it is when our hearts are soft,

before the day grows hard and tough,

and we must stand and run, or fall before the tempest blowing.

I love you more than life itself and life itself has no understanding,

it runs before the rippled sun and takes its joy where joy will come,

and revels in the wild greed that feeds the heedless acts committed by the hand it is commanding,

it screams and groans, and shouts and moans, and aches and sweats, and bares its bones,

and the sly, sly fox has its nose in the air,

and the grunting bear is pawing grubs,

and the hawk swoops down and kills the dove,

and then there's no more talk of love,

but I love you more than all of that,

I love you deep as rain can wrap itself around the afternoon,

and sing its simple serenade across the rooftops and the balustrades,

and tap upon the windowpane,

and speak your name in keening, plunging drops.

I love you more than all my talk of being found, or being lost,

and whether hearts are hard, or soft,

and whether death is kind, or cross,

or life is worth the kind of pain that drives us to our knees in vain,

I love you more than words, or rain,

I love you more.

13 Apr 18

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