Where did you come from, bright star? What heaven did you leap from, dear love? How can I spell your name without the sound of autumn underneath my tongue? Without acknowledging the lovers who bent me in half? Bless them for bringing me to you How can I say your name without also breathing the words "My god, I found you"? How can I ever speak again with this mouth when it has found where it belongs? When you touch me, I am a bed of calla lilies I will make a house for you and fill it with evergreens I will paint sunsets on every wall so you can only see beautiful things How can I say "love" without wanting to fold myself into you like a thousand paper cranes? Dear one, I was halved the moment I was born The other piece of me is inside of your mouth and I was found whole the moment you spoke