guise

i come to you first

in all things, and i am

warm and wanting.

there is no hour

i do not think of you, and no room

in which i do not wait.

does that even compare

to the long black telescope of night

and the moon in her moon-cage?

without the guise

of dispassion, immutability,

come to me.

i am warm and wanting.

inside a sparrow's heartbeat, and in each

quiet place i wait.