Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear
And once that seemed too much
I lived on air
That crossed me from sweet things
The flow of-was it musk
From hidden grapevine springs
Downhill at dusk?
I had the swirl and ache
From sprays of honeysuckle
That when they’re gathered shake
Dew on the knuckle
I craved strong sweets, but those
Seemed strong when I was young
The petal of the rose
It was that stung
Now no joy but lacks salt
That is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault
I crave the stain
Of tears the aftermark
Of almost too much love
The sweet of bitter bark
And burning clove
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard
In grass and sand
The hurt is not enough
I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough
To all my length.
