Love Poem
You come to me as waters flood,
without knock, beyond keys,
too late to save
what seems important at the time.Scattered poems, nightgowns,
open, underlined books - all
ravished by your mere presence;
the lick of rug beneath my feet,
even my blue china cups
neat on their hooks - betrayed.My knees notice first
and then my thighs go;
Dürer's wing, luminous in its frame,
blurs. Nothing matters.Your lips fade the flowers on the wall:
one by one fall the numbed roses.