The Pillow to the Handkerchief
We were material, and then, in ways,
Most immaterial, the vehicles
For all the hurt and love of spinning days.
They loved each other, and were miracles.
And though the body is the body, desire
Links the love to love, ignites the liar,
And brings whatever’s in them to a blaze.
Othello loved the lightness in her kiss.
As pillow and as handkerchief, we knew
How little and how much we could undo.
For longing as a feeling’s under rated,
A gorgeousness that’s heat, and silk, and mated
With other longing shivering on a wire,
Beloved to beloved whisperer.