Tuesday, December 13, 2011

He Covered Me With Corners of His Cloth

Your hope won’t shame me, won’t
point to the places it protected
once, and laugh. Your hands might

press too firmly for my liking—
it might be—but when I see the earnest
mercy in your eyes I’ll know it good.

May the taste and temperature
of me be sweet to you—
as sweet to you as you are kind.