I Want To Write Different Words For You

I want to write different words for you

To invent a language for you alone

To fit the size of your body

And the size of my love.

…

I want to travel away from the dictionary

And to leave my lips.

I am tired of my mouth

I want a different one

That can change

Into a cherry tree or a matchbox,

A mouth from which words can emerge

Like nymphs from the sea,

Like white chicks jumping from the magician’s hat.

…

Take all the books

That I read in my childhood,

Take all my school notebooks,

Take the chalk,

The pens,

And the blackboards,

But teach me a new word

To hang like an earring

On my lover’s ear.

...

I want other fingers

To write another way.

For I hate fingers that are not too long or too short

As I hate trees that neither die nor grow.

I want new fingers

Raised high as ship-masts

Long as a giraffe's neck

So I can tailor a poetry-garment for my love

That she never wore before me.

...

I want to fashion you an alphabet

Different from all the alphabets,

Comprising rhythms of the rain,

The dust of the moon

The sadness of grey clouds

And the aching of the willow-leaves

Breaking beneath September's carriage wheels.