They asked me at the table where you were – why

had I come without you? Who was I

(the waiter said) to be without “the lovely girl”?

One evening, in the smoke and swirl

of voices and guitar, we were known

to be together. They remembered you

and remembered me, as two, as one.


We have no record, but in soul and blood.

We are writ in water, a shadow in the wood;

we are words unsounded and our deeds

are secrets all. – Ah, but we are the seeds

of half creation, the sea’s spring and the buds

of mountains. And when you whisper, all

The heavens thunder forth the fact of love!