I want this love to be resilient
as crabgrass cracking the interstices
of paving stones until the sidewalks burst. Its ease
is difficulty, rough when crossed, ebullient
in adversity, still new, unruly, int-
ermittently stormy, rolling with June thunder.
We’re getting over, rootlings pushing under
ramshackle walls, knocking them down. A brilliant
midsummer sky, cleaner than metaphors,
blazes above the river. We are three
months old since midnight, appropriately
cheered on a French map, then under the sheet.
I lie beside you now, absorbing heat,
light, currents of cold air, this season’s, yours.
blazes above the river. We are three

– Marilyn Hacker. Untitled V (Love, Death, and the Changing of the Seasons)

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