! ! The Conversation Poem by Michael Shepherd

You know, since you've played that game too:

Sometimes, consumed by glowing, burning love
of treasured child, or husband, wife,

it is one further bound of love
to speak of them with a detachment;

casually; offhand; as if it were
of no great current consequence;

you look into their eyes; see there what you see:
love's incoherent boundlessness;

are lost to love yourself;
smile; and play their game.