orpheus to eurydice

can i tell you
why i love you?

can i tell you
the curve, your neck, the moon,
the silence, your eyes, the night--

i stare at you, the star
and see
a thousand resting mysteries

taut against the inward surface of your skin
like apple flesh,

sightless, soundless waiting.
to burst the tender hide.
clear juice. white light.
my love.