Love Song

The ancients would lift
          a clay spout to your lips—
          water and honey and wine.

I give you milk, softened
         with wine, and swear

you'll never hunger, never
         thirst while I'm alive.

What suffering I can't preclude
         I'll soothe with singing:

My future, for you

not the greenness of a leaf
         but of the leaves on all
         the April branches.

Fire, I give you fuel. I sweat
         and chop the wood.

I tender forever in you
         who begin where I end as if

your body is
         my body, your elegance
         my elegance.

Sustenance, emptiness
         is lack of you, yearning is

the road to where you are.

You are the road, the where,
         the song, the hunger. Child,

I give you sleep, I sing
                                          you there. 

Copyright Credit: Maggie Dietz, "Love Song" from That Kind of Happy.  Copyright © 2016 by The University of Chicago.  Reprinted by permission of The University of Chicago Press.
Source: That Kind of Happy (The University of Chicago Press, 2016)