Whomever loves me new will find beneath
a hardened shell the dissonance of music
in a foreign system. I've atoned
for tempered intonation; I'm a mode
she'll find beyond a minor―difficult.
Alarmed, amused, amazed, words will come out
that seem not from my pen, not of my mind,
not by my soul, but of an other self
beyond the sphere we're in. O love me how
the clovers loved her body when it fell
in January on the lake's south shore!
Deluded in this body's luminous
and whirling systems is a poet that
moves as a song describing love's phases.
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