Will we work together?
by Marge Piercy
You wake in the early grey
morning in bed alone and curse
me, that I am only
sometimes there. But when
I am with you, I light
up the corners, I am bright
as a fireplace roaring
with love, every bone in my back
and my fingers is singing
like a tea kettle on the boil.
My heart wags me, a big dog
with a bigger tail. I am
sore before I can express
on yours the smallest part
of what moves me. Words
shred and splinter.
I want to make with you
some