At some point they must have purpose,
these words we write one another.
All the empty ones are worthless
and blur our lives' vital sharpness.
Meaningful words make a rupture.
A dream of you:
boater hat, beige suit.
Orange dappled sunset,
orange dappled through
Viking beard, through hazel
eyes and tuft of short-clipped
hair.
Blue fading sky, bright blue
dress.
Look up from my lap into my
bright blue eyes.
A wide, lush lawn,
a wedding.
You smile, toothy, crease-eyed
and kiss me.
And this time it’s sanctified.