POEMS FOR NOONE  

Love Song

When love begins to sing
My awkward desire for perfection
          Dies;

We move to the rhythm of a gracious fury
And for an instant voices, hands, and feet elevate
Whatever shame we have to some imagined peak;
We die happy in the womb of the obdurate world.

The song is the first boat down the river, across a lake
Where the house on poles was consecrated. And they wondered
At the boat that could move so fast! The craft cut a wave
           before it flew.