Did you remember to make one heart

soft, wretched, and bold enough to love mine?

In what country is it dreaming

and at what hour should I whisper its name?

Has it been blessed

with the lovely cruel eyes of a baby seal,

or cursed with the all-consuming vision

of some god such as Odin?

Did you make one heart beautiful,

scarred, and starved enough to come find me?

Like a rich king’s castle it will need

more chambers than usual:  

one where flutes and guitars may share their love-play,

another where we can each forget the other exists,

and yet another where we may flood each other with light

and longing and fire until we are insane with our throbbing.

Did you hide it inside a body muscled with music

or within some ancient soul covered over

with the kneeling green of a weeping willow?

I should like, I think, for its kiss to taste

like roses.  And I recall from a glorious dream

that its hair should smell like the sea.

Did you remember to make one heart to love mine?

Did you make each ounce of blood

from the perfume of a pure and perfect patience?

Did you build each trembling wall out of compassion

strong enough to hold a man so unlovely and foolish as I?

Did you remember to make one heart

soft, wretched, and bold enough to claim my heart?

In what country is it dreaming

and at what hour should I whisper its name?

Does it know where my sorrow lives

and has anyone shown it where our bliss is waiting?

And you ––You–– will you forgive me for not remembering

that yours is a love which never forgets.

Aberjhani

(from I MADE MY BOY OUT OF POETRY)