Has the darkness lifted?
Is the round bud of the maple not filled with longing?
How close can a room hold two, not speaking or touching?
Does every thought glint, is every fire stolen?
Is everything in the world immersed in the petroleum of desire?
Have the clocks been wound, has the coffeemaker been unplugged?
Has the crying from behind the keyhole subsided?
Do you see where the fabric holds the shape of shoulders?
Do you feel how the music rinses us clear?
Has the rain fed you with riddles?
Have I not been permeable to everything that has come?
Would you tell me where to lay this burden down?
Do you love the sweetness that precedes decay?
Do you love the light behind every green blade?
Do you love me homely?
Do you take me plain?
Have I not met you at every detour?
Can you tell me what it is that brings you back?
Each time, have we bent our heads to drink the water?
Would you lie here with me beneath this ceiling of stars?
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.