2634

2633

2632

2632
Reverence is red with desire
For a lover's reciprocation
That has no breath,
Yet is by me breathed:
In the longing is its consummation done,
In my solitary,
And love's bitterness is my portion,
Unpartnered by the other's voice.

2631

2630

2629

2628

2627

2626

2625

2624

2623

2622

2622
It's an improbable hour
When I realize where I am,
Not by this path nor that corner lit,
Nor under any sky,
But within a confine wrought
Myself upon my skin.
Yet as the sun that lesser angle makes
To impediments of its light
Am I by my longer shadow pulled,
And the path and the corner lit
And every sky there is,
Within this confine's brought.

2621