“How many ways do I love you? Clad, half-clad, starkers.
Erect, recumbent, tumescent, down right limp. Snoozing.
Snoring. Smiling—as now—eyes shut, almost asleep. I
love your fingers! They unlax, they unfurl. You are
floating away from me on a dark, salt, refreshing tide.
I will tell you softly and more softly of the many ways
I love you and gently ease my voice to a thread, to an
all but Invisible strand of silk loosened—so lightly—
from the cocoon of sleep, unseen, within you. Dream. I
love you, a whole dream heaven world away from me, far
from me as Mars and further than the Pleiades, who are
seven. You no longer hear my voice, its ‘baltering
torrent is shrunk to a soodling thread.’ I will, all loving
all of you, cease now to speak.”
“Go on. I’m listening.”
James Schuyler, from Excerpts from a Novel