Every direction, every verse explaining

Every direction, every verse explaining
pluralities of love. The lean muscle,
the unexplored library, the expression
of love in the thunderstorm. I'm hearing

a possibility, a rhetoric that's yearning
for a partner. The intervallic relations,
the modes in which I speak, the vain sighs
and ineffable madness. Every direction

and there's no center, pointless meditation
and love's insidious trials. O she is
something that I can't possess, I think

of new ways to express her. It seems
that the rain may never get here. She is
the mixture of fear and awe I'm feeling.