Love Sonnet II

Love Sonnet II
after Pablo Neruda

My love overpowers even that you do not love me.
As you slip away into cool acres of forest light,
know that I seep through your sweater and see
under your skin, into your soul, and that I rejoice.

Happy as a poppy farmer slitting his bulbs at dawn,
I walk the rows of your being with my razor,
extracting from your eyes, your laughter, your light:
the leaked colors of night, the dripping moon,

the sun impaled and bleeding on a mountain peak.
You do not know it but you secrete yourself
at my table and I gather you in little jars at your feet.

Though you resist me with the vehemence of lakes,
I will rain and rain until I flood and flood you
and it will be your love that overflows at my feet.

By Ryan Dowling

Love Sonnet I

Love Sonnet I
after Pablo Neruda

You needn’t love me as long as I may still love you;
the sun still hatches an Aphrodite from its sea of flame;
a lumberjack is splitting the badly coupled still;
still the stars accumulate in the most avoided corner.

Not a drop of water in all the world will change us,
for as long as what you feel for me is a moon-white child
that has died of her love for thirst, for the sweetness
of absence, love’s fire sleeps in a soft roar.

Take it all away from me, my dear, only not too far;
I want to know that if I drag my heart across this desert
I will find at its end your footprint or a single tear.

Go on looking, my dear, for anyone, anyone but me,
only do not find him; leave me at least the slightest chance
that, of all these drones, I alone may love my queen.

by Ryan Dowling