Iím so receptive - as the glowing light
That touched our faces now and then
When we would shift,
Two heads beneath one Christmas tree
In garland lamps beyond the pungent fur,
still smelling woods in stupor,
another life, another place,
so far away, like ours.
And then days after, guilt on every eyelash,
Entreating steps in pagan rioting
Of Midwinter Eve circlets -
I wouldnít even dare
I would just stand and stare
And take to whatís left for me
Your perfume on my shirt by accident
Expiring all too quickly.
God help me outlove this love,
outpray heretic's prayers
and cry imaginary eyes
for what strenth there's left
to outdo one of the 10 commandements
to the traced bluntness of New Year's vows.