Shall I compare thee?

In the absence of physicality

In the civil strife that risks my heart

I make of her a spiritual body

To trace with my pen and soul

Like two dark, midnight jewels

Set upon an olive mask

Her eyes were set upon my soul

I happened upon

In a dry, bloodless desert

As a temple

A fountain in Ancient Egypt

In her absence

In heat I trace her with my song

That talks to birds and breezes

A song of love, spirit to spirit

In a temple of books

Words built for her

A mind grown absent in its own house

Lost in contemplation

Of her old fashioned beauty,

Roving lust

At dusk, the sun falls

And by faith

I set her as a canopy

On my night sky

Again the sun comes again

Like a chariot set in place,

So far above me

Each point a star

Each line a curve

Each body an earth, a berwick

Form only she can name

My mute name, dull words

Only she can name

To impart Creation

Cal Kalve