When I submit to you, you to me, not a careful argument,
but each to the other completely, not seeking,
not reaching for anything in return,
all the scars of years unhidden between us,
and if, when so joined, I were to say, you are me, in a way
you are my life, would you, wife, mother of our future,
somehow feel that I had reeled you in on a hook,
snagged you in a net from which you could not escape?

I want the bird that's you, its suddenness wild with song.
And if I said I stand in awe of your flash of feathers,
how you call to all that's best in me, would my words begin
to cage you in?  And would you then take flight? My love's the moon
that follows you through all the seasons. But if love loom,
a prison wall, raise the roof! Make me your ladder
to the stars. Wake me to those wild places hidden from myself,
and let's take liberties with each other, delicious liberties
that bind us in the wildest reaches of our hearts.