I’d like to get to know you…

If summer origin’d but one simple sin,

like cold water in the morning shower

does the gross pleasures of sense attend,

for our summer I’d not waste one hour

since for death I will all but kindly stop

and until that rendezvous I intend to loft

my senses high, my mind set lop,

preferring easier leanings on your skin soft.

Perhaps, then, my habenular queen,

we might liken to the birds and to the bees,

your heart and mine can share the sheen

of Eden’s apple, serpentine catholic frieze

of lovers’ lot in garden supreme:

of love and loss, God’s only theme.