i know not how she twists her
aches into the reprise of her
heart's persistent pleadings.

   her hands touch marred walls.
   her swift glanced put to rest
   some lost vision waxing in
   weathered trellis
   which music ****** her ears
   with temperamental ballad.
   how my day slowly unravels
   itself from the cocoon
   of questions
   and answer metamorphosed,
   a fluttering butterfly.

but i know when she moves
i feel the Earth move, as in a club
of wind pursues the willingness
of each leaf leaping from their boughs.

but i know when she converses,
the quiet rests its forlorn mouth
and shudders to some acquiescing commune.

but i know when she loves when
she does not love me, when she hates so much with her furious heart when she loved me still
in imperiousness solely our own,

   there was a language only i
   know her lips mouth to soothe
   the paroxysm of consternation
   and lullaby me through
   the wakefulness of all things.