My love's a spill 

of nightshade; a daffodil spray 
by moonlight; a cross-current
that spirals the spires of fire
tended with loss and wild in low 
apogee and wide azimuth; a child

of salt marsh before the siren
of the sea; my love's a wave
awash upon a wave awash upon star
storm-cloaked and lightning raw
with inscription; a warning

as promise, as kindness, as meta-
morphosis and apotheosis and tongue;
my love's heaven's forest floor 
of litany and eulogy; a simple song 
of the thing of things, my love.