I've loved you by accident.
There are happenstances and there are happenstances.
Once, there was a sea and it saddened me with its shells and its starfish.
The starfish were tiny hands, each a gradual transition into empty.
Empty story. Empty galaxy. The sand torn away by the tide.
Then, like a piston, the hard teeth of you.
If I were a vestibule I would remain silent. I would let you in. I would ajar.
Meanwhile the sand grit hushes the floorboards even though
I am a hallway. I am the gasp of a match on a heel.
Dear silica, shine on. Grind the oak to powder.
Buff the skin, the last erotic fever
And be the buzz of the engine, gassed up on rocket fuel.