Efface complexity, forget the bond
Of old affection, trust, ennui… For love,
This room’s the world: which all the world beyond,
Although enriched by it, knows nothing of.
Your body is the garden at its heart –
Sweetness and pungency; earth in this place
Is damp, springy with moss, and when I part
The leaves up there, fruit dangles in my face.
Such innocence! But, now you stretch and yawn
And rise, you turn away from me toward
The somewhere-else that is to be endured.
The world is all before us. We shall meet
A messenger with news of our deceit
Where pale flowers shred and tangle on the thorn.