When I think of how you move—
when you enter a room, how the room
enters you; when you step out
into the night, how the night sky
falls into your hair—
when I think of how you stand
as if with nothing in your hands
and I have nothing to offer you now
save my own wild emptiness—
when I think of how you leave
the air untouched and how you came
into the world my grief had wrecked
and made it shine again by simply
walking slowly through the dark
toward me—love, I think
the body is a miracle, that animal
whose graceful shadow
lies between us, calmed.