Then I went to Courtney and I wrote,
I had to go out and take a whole pile of blackberries
because my mother-in-law was going to make a pie.
And I wrote a poem about my wife,
again while I was out there.
Inside the tulip, it's called.
Inside the tulip we make love, on closer look
seeing faint green lines new.
Let me share this flower with you,
kiss you, press my tongue on palm
against the roof of my mouth.
Look at me long enough and I will
be a flower or wet blackberries dangling from a dripping bush.
Let me share you with this flower,
look at anything long enough and it is water.
On a leaf on a petal where we lie bare legs together.