Walking the stone beach at dawn
I see a small cliff

and make out, between the coalescing
and yanking waves,

your face in the rock. Love watches from a lighthouse,
and blinks.

And again, in the Check bakery's
pastry case

among the sweetbreads, a loose cherry
on the parchment

is your mouth. Love rots in me like a tooth, I have known
such sweetness.

Over the hill, the old house sits
and it is you

on the swing, holding your guitar
like a child,

singing to it like a child. It is only morning, and already
you are everywhere.

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