To lift you up: my body’s agony,
my heart’s delight. Though arms will buckle, sight
will never sore to witness you defy
the laws of gravity when you take flight.
Your joy when willowy legs levitate
above gravity’s chains give flight to doves
the hunters pinioned. Though teeth gnash from weight
so great, the world I’ll carry you above.
No treasure–even Columbine–I’ll hold
as devotedly as I carry you–
more polish than pearl, more glimmer than gold–
whose laugh empties the grave and tames the shrew.
Though muscles tear, I’ll suffer every trial
to relish the manna that is your smile.