Stepping over the fable, I stripped down --
O! You should've felt that breeze!
Laid a good while's assessments
Of red breasts at the foot of the path.
A waft took the drawings of red breasts,
The songs that they'd wrote,
The heavy decoded movements of defense,
And the leftover shells.
It's May -- I thought, sweet May! --
From now on, you know I'm gonna love May.
May: the kick in the gut, the ignition,
The leave it all behind.
Saying, "Here's your fresh weapon, sir,
And it's clean, now sleep with it beside you"¦
And I hope I strengthened your faith
With that thunderstorm that you just had to sit through."
You really were in the river -- no song,
This part is true.
And while steering a whirlpool with your finger,
You explained whom you loved.
Where go my mouth? You, too?
Good God! And remember what next?
Hand up to heaven, swear on everything:
Neither do I.
Recall the last year of the red breasts
In the birdbath I'd set up and filled.
Wonder which of their patterns and accents
Were stained by my pool.
So now, wash when you like, dear,
And dustily speak how you wanna.
I'll be in the next room
Changing some of our windows to mirrors.