Within your temple, beloved, the pop
and snap of music rings. Beloved, slide
your light and muscle around me. The top
of your church touches heaven, birds glide
above your tabernacle. It's said when pride
comes, then comes disgrace: do not dwell
in love without me. Beloved, do not hide
your face or gaze. O how quickly I fell
in love with you! Your temple is a spell
that I submit to prayerfully in corners
weeping with joy. I've gathered shells
and stones to adorn your neck. The burner
shapes a flame that pops. Beloved, fill
me with repose and leave me lying still.
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