In Sooth La

In truth, my body seems to deny want;

wills it a story all it's own, but not.

Like a dream, a fuzzy channel, an uneasy connection,

a spirit doppelganger, an unseen “me” leads the way;

I swoon, I sway—come night, come day.

A Sunday morn, love-shaped lips accused actions weak.

Sometimes hard, her love could not always see.

I mourned, once or twice—in sooth la, I cried a thousand times;

fifty-two and fifty-two, three from three,

I love thee still—all the live-long day that I may meet.

But not deeper than I; this day, I cherish my all—in spades and spades;

in and upon every single cell of my cells,

I

love

me.