Poem #27

I desire to hear and speak to her
My words lovely and pained in longing
That she may love my speech,
Relish its invention and my intent
Though distance confuses night and day,
Paradise remembered and reminders
Of signals and signs only she could see
Before she left.

I uncover library leaves,

Poets gave me language; muse gave me lungs.
But my love made me speak, with streaming speech,
She housed my words from the hasty wind.

Now my tongue is stoic. I fear soldiers' songs
Of foreign wars coupled with winsome words
That by amorous feints her memory may fade,
And I would write from the satellites' rotation,
Joining muse and masters in mute monotony.