ON LOVE

I have breathed 

my own light into you, 

making sweetmeats 

of your pudgy hands, 

an epic drama 

of your quotidian ways, 

and sapphires of your eyes. 

And it is ridiculous, 

robbing Peter to pay Paul, 

and delightful, 

this dance with divinity, 

and excruciating, 

this homespun crown of thorns, 

and terrifying, 

for I know no way of stopping it.