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I love the way you love the world,
each home along the river, each woman
you covet, passing now or past,
who touches you, whose children
brush your hair.
And you rebound to each, in memory,
a story, a story,
about how God and his devils will not give you
O, you are sad, with the deepest, sorrowful sadness
and withdrawn. How you grieve, love,
when you are not yearning.
Dear, my own
unsolid ground, the Sea and all her ships
are women you are too certain of —
who would not marry you for love.
For who is so cruel to see you,
and would not marry you
Copyright 2022 Mary Jane White
Mary Jane White is an attorney and poet. Her new collection of poems Dragonfly. Toad. Moon. was released in April 2022 from Press 53.