Afraid, although it's real,
that love has leaked away
on the waters of words I say,
yet it's the love I feel,
that's like something you said,
a body of land, turned,
smooth-coasted, with that unspurned
ocean behind your head
where retreats out of me
what I would not claim,
that for a moment has my name,
then's the sea
and good, that has your
entreaty, lack of concern,
an embrace I learn
that I knew at once, before
knowing enough to say
at all still blackly running
out beyond my cunning
away, to say it stay.