I will be all foot in mouth,
I know,
when I try to feed you
brilliant poetry
from the bruised
center of my heart.

I will be clumsy
as an ox
and twice as dumb
when I try to move
into the warm circle
of your arms.

I want to taste everything you taste.

I will be all enraged
in the dark fold of night,
dreaming of you.
Your charming voice,
a pillow for my head.

Your songs, a quilt.

I will be just a small bird
when it comes time to build my nest.
I will be unable to fly
Wobbling about on my tiny, orange feet.

I want to be combed into the nest of your hair.