My brain is in love with your brain,
and my body is just nuts about your body.
My brain thinks your body is the ne plus ultra
of sinewy perfection. My body goes in awe
of your brain, a dim sibling, loping behind.
And my heart? My heart is a bloodhound
with two masters. It tracks you through
the deep woods, first this way, then that.
The body whistles; the mind blows its silver horn.
Soon we will find you, treed and waiting.
The mind will stand poised with its camera;
the body, raise its barreled scope. The heart
will run around and around in circles as they argue
about the future, and birds scatter like buckshot,
piercing the dawn with their little cries.
University of Pittsburgh Press