This Extasie doth unperplex
(We said) and tell us what we love
— John Donne

Eight nights straight
she has shaped my dreams,
my sleeping and waking,
her image, her image’s absence,
who she and who she is not

both present and absent within me,
her eyes like blue veined marble
or like watery turquoise,
such distance within and around her,
so subtle a gesture,

so happy a glance, like shadow
at play amidst sunlight,
her voice so much less than
a whisper, her taste
in my blood as I wake.

Hear it:




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