to hold you, my love,
like it was time's last minute,
or humankind's last fetus,
to hold you
tight, and in this holding
tight,
to hope you read all my heart's dictionaries
and hear in its arrythmic
beat the pattern that signals what
a lover may be able to lay on the table,
no promise in the world
can fortify or prove
a knowledge that cannot be spelled.
You know? My love.