33. taj mahal

I have never given myself

such a large allowance of love,
instead guarding it–

tender, in small boxes.

But let me
bathe your feet in sweet milk,
golden toes striking against marble;
let me

scrawl it in the stars,
let me
pour oil in warm pitchers over your head,
kiss your fingers to my lips

like plucked harp strings,
rippled water.
They will come
from far-flung continents
to see it,

the love so enormous
it could not be carried
by a thousand elephants.

Let them tell the stories for centuries,
of the marigolds, the moon.

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