I don't understand anything save for
the wonder at how you could exist,
how like living petals your skin is,
how like the violent tide of spring you are,
how anything in this world could be so bright
and how even in sunlight you were a better Bat'sheba
than me, with the river of your hair baptizing me,
and I've never talked theology, not once in all my life
because I'd never felt the need to shake and shiver in the sun,
and I'd never trembled with the violence of any deity
until I'd knelt to you.