There has got to be a love
Which doesn’t need poetry and kisses,
Which doesn’t need that which a lover intent on love
In sadness and misery desperately misses.
There has got to be a love
Which doesn’t need new lovers,
Charity, stoicism, gold,
Or the misfortune of others.
There has got to be a love
Without memories—bright, or in shade.
Crushing desire! Of her! Bodily shape
Of moving shadows—which a small religious candle made!
Isn’t there a love
Not helpless, superstitious, or afraid?