Dare We Call This Love? Poem by Eric Cockrell

dare we call this love?
the iris courts the wolf.
the handmaiden of the night,
sews stars into the emptiness.
and water drawn from the deepest well,
runs amuck down our chins.
eyes turn inward, light breathes forth,
the hand beats with longing.

i cry out,
and the moon catches my breath...
the willow reaches out to touch.
the perfume of the scented glove,
turns pine needles into brandy.
the tongue strips and takes the want,
nothing else remains...
be there eternity let it be this,
be it hungry and never filled!