I have inhaled the dust of your
books of poetry, the worn volumes
of sonnets that gave birth to so many
sighs upon the heart of a
high school girl wanting to
write love poems to
other high school girls,

You, you spoke of love to me
from centuries and countries
and colonies away,

across wars and conquerings
across bombings and packed air planes
across an ocean

on paper
just paper.

What tricks,
what madness,
what magic.