Your words set in motion

six months of savory days and

liquid nights that poured over me like icing

On a gingerbread house.

Stories rolled off your tongue

like Maypole ribbons, and I tethered

myself to your mast and grew

tangled in the strands.

You wove spells as you wrestled with

Donne, elegies full of  satire

And sparks, striking

flint upon my pavement

And I fell in love

Beguiled by your whispers

And your lines, which pierced

My heart like inky tattoos.

.

I exclaimed Hurrah!

And tried to build rafters

Around your prose, but they

Could not hold me.

Our parting was swift and silent

After all those words, no explanation was forthcoming

future perfect dissolved into imperfect tense

I was left with remembered conversations and

A dowry of dreams