How do I love thee? Let me count the ways . . . Longingly? Mathematically? Collectively? So tenderly I worship you? So desperately I wish you were dead? Listen in as these five very different poets express their experiences of love.
If I could I would leave the flimsy skin of my intellect on the sand.
A lilac tree outside her window buds, and unbuttons in the sun.
Love is a combustion that threatens the pure creature we love.
I love all of them. I started and never stopped.
Frequently I find myself wondering which of you is dead.