A winged cup who else has seen it but me?

Yesterday was when it surfaced by slow

majesty, as in the gradually

pouring of oil of an anointing

and at its sweet edge my blessed lips tightened.

Not even a drop, not even a drop!

of your balm did I allow to be lost

 

Your dark head of hair.  Do you remember?

I stroked with my hands because as you spoke

the words from those generous lips I kissed

and though my kiss was bland it transformed me

as the softness of the ambiance.

 

 

 

 

I felt my whole life  and in hugging you

I was hugged too! I couldn’t see the world

or hear its noise nor recall the vengeful,

barbarous battle! A cup flew in the air.

And I, held in unseen arms, reclined

behind it, near its sweet edges,

and I rose up to the blue firmament.

 

Oh love, oh how immense, oh fine artist!

On wheel or rail the iron smith

fuses iron; a flower a woman

an eagle an angel made of gold

or silver by the jeweler’s chisel:

You, you, only you know how to reduce

the size of the universe to a kiss.