Love, leave me like the light,
The gently passing day;
We would not know, but for the night,
When it has slipped away.

So many hopes have fled,
Have left me but the name
Of what they were. When love is dead,
Go thou, beloved, the same.

Go quietly; a dream
When done, should leave no trace
That it has lived, except a gleam
Across the dreamer’s face.

I do not crave to have thee mine alone, dear
   Keeping thy charms within my jealous sight;
Go, give the world the blessing of thy beauty,
   That other hearts may share of my delight!

I do not ask, thy love should be mine only
   While others falter through the dreary night;
Go, kiss the tears from some wayfarer’s vision, 
   That other eyes may know the joy of light!

Where days are sad and skies are hung with darkness, 
   Go, send a smile that sunshine may be rife;
Go, give a song, a word of kindly greeting, 
   To ease the sorrow of some lonely life!

When Love becomes a stranger
In the temple he has built
Of remembered nights and days,
When he sighs and turns away
From the altar in the temple
With unreturning feet,
When the candles flicker out
And the magical-sweet incense
Vanishes . . .
Do you think there is grief born
In any god's heart?

Funny, isn’t it, how hard to describe

a good man? In the shower, I let

the water run hot as my blood filtering

a mirror of loss. The messenger arrived

flustered as feathers falling to the place

where feathers go to find each other. Who

is the man who makes you remark, “I have

been lucky”? How does the faucet instruct

forgiveness? Our voices spiral to meet

with too much space between. My cuticles

shine like chrome under the moment’s remains.

A demand for nakedness pools somewhere

down the drain. For what we’ve been able to

let go, and know it happens to us all.