to my enamored ears, remembering your touch,
like the last match
on a cold march
my hands numb
and the whole world
icing over
Your whole body
the last match
catching fire
in a vast emptiness
until
the ghost of time
is swallowed up
and heat makes love
to meet us
and I am born
from the shape of your sound
howling out like frangipani in a shroud of opening eyelets
prophets proposing
to your shape and form
prophets
keeping me in step
with your perfume
your perfected elegance, sweetness, essence
preparing me
for God's Love
I Love You
Your Beloved
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