You closed the door without a sound
You always did things gently
I waited for you one more day
And then my heart was still
I crumbled, then the sky was stars
And then the stars were embers.
Their soft and searing flame has fed
The laser of my will.
Where is she, whom I found
When light discovered shadow
And day discovered clouds
And air discovered rain,
Who in a breaking world
Was not defiled or broken
And in the armor of a dream
Had fought and killed the pain?
Ask me about her face
And listen to my silence
Tell you about her skin
Which could be dark or fair;
Her eyes, which could be sea or sky
Or anthracite or copper
Beneath the gold or ebony
Or rubies of her hair.
Ask instead about the spring
Of burning drive behind her brow,
The tempered fingers of her hands
Caressing curves of mu and tau,
The light precision of her voice,
The anchored focus of her gaze,
The crystal river of her mind
Dancing with sparks of thought, in phase
With heartbeats like a metronome
Counting down running seconds till
As hammered purpose driving home
I find and grasp and pierce and fill
The velvet laser of her will
This article originally appeared in print under the headline "Transit of Venus".
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