THIS IS HOW YOU COMPOSE A LOVE POEM
The sparrow hawk in the tree is not who I am,
lemon seed, flicker brush, the decay of skunk grass.
I follow to where the path goes through the belly of bark
into the skinny trail of hammer thronged ants,
wheel bird beetles and a flourish of sapsucker bees.
Here the way is blocked, here the way continues,
This is how you compose a love poem from the sighting
of a bird on a tree near the cone heads and boulders,
the end of a plain and a playing field, a thin waterway,
the land of flesh eating darters and mud bottom bass.