Here's a formal one, quite light--
"Untitled."
It is no lover--
sorry, I'll start again.
"It is no wonder that new lovers run rice gantlets
to Niagara Falls, or to some other elephant wonder.
Once weightless, love finds bodying
in the archaic landscapes of the flesh.
It needs proportion in its flow, and goes to public waters.
There it falls asleep, unoverwhelmed,
while fall sounds shape the window panes of sweetheart
cottages and darling hotels.
They wake up, ordinarily disposed to say,
I gained 10 pounds, we never got to see the falls,
or all is well."