Love among the Manichees

The blond cowl terse as a blunt threat to injure, The claws instinctive to a triggering nerve, I am a shut spring in my fanged disguises, Aping the beast I serve.

I would be for you an offering of clear spirit, Like water glistening over your spread hands, Like the pattern described in air when the bird has left it, Like not yet peopled lands.

Tick-laden fur ruffling for winds of danger, I gorge on honey in the fallen tree, Snarl at approachers to these laden acres That bind their fruit to me.

I would be for you like a length of fallow From the earliest world, like open mountainside Too high for the spurred seed to beat and follow, For the edged wing to glide.

Puzzled, the shared beast lurks under my eyelids, Dumb, menacing, not able to let go, Or to conceive that who comes unconstrainéd Stays the most easily so.

I would be for you as a willing mirror, Plain crystal, undefined, of itself dumb, That shapes its voice when you first look into it, Smiling, "Now you have come."