for my Valentine

So close came the white lips of the moon
brushing a loveliness across her shoulders that night

before you met. A simple baptism
that washed her sinless soul. She tastes of it, even now.

When you’re so close to her that breath meets
breath, underneath that waxing moon, memory meets now

and again. Nights and days shed green light
that she and you wear like a shared skin, always new.

When, so close, peril came towards her,
even the pavement burned under your worried shadow,

you dammed your tears for her bravery
and pulled her so close there was no room left for moonlight.

Now you must kiss her soft shoulders, night
and morning, not for a cure, but to keep her so close.