"The Bridge"

Old-fashioned, cliche-ridden love song; still brandishing "a cliche like a sabre," prof.

(for my wife)

I want you now
with all my heads,
my eyes, hands, lips and
voice: you are my lungs,
my thoughts, my tongue,
my serious and my
singing sentences, my
constant compass -- south,
north, west and east; though frigid
poles apart, the ceilings and the
walls of holy church or
humble house
dissolve,
and I am ever near
to you; and should we be
nine worlds removed, in love's
eternal span the world's
ways are a universe
far thrown from us, as
we in day dreams hold
each other gentle,
tight and
close.