THE REST OF LOVE
The rest of love is just a spoonful away, a
big, fat dollop of licking and touch. If that's
all that happens I'll be happy enough. The
most happy fellow, that's me. Look, look
high, the farthest sky is throwing clouds,
clouds and rain to rain on me : clouds
of glory and majesty. The rest of love
rides the spendthrift wind, from you
to me and back again, in reciprocity.
-
The rest of love stays around, lingers,
refuse to be but a memory. Its ashes,
oh man, how they stay hot. I hold out
my arms (and take in a lot). I hold
out my arms and gather you up.
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