I am punctured by your beauty,

whiplashed by your trancing radiance

that smashes like a solar flare against my fragile psyche.

how many times, in my verse, have I  surrendered to you?

how many times a night, in my heart, am I slayed and rendered?

I can never (sur)render enough.

I know what I must do:

I must fortify myself magnificently,

endow myself most intrepidly,

enhance my worth ever ingeniously,

and then dare to surrender again—almost worthy of your touch,

the closure, the hush of assimilation.

the moon shall not howl, the wolf shall not shine,

just as I will not live until you are mine.