Gifts

Was once a wayfarer
Wandering in the broken circles
Of an inconsolable sadness

With just
One eye
One leg
One arm and
Two mouths

One too inept to utter
The other a mercenary
With a battering ram for a tongue

Suddenly a clearing was forged by
The breeze of your swaying hips
I was brought to trial by your smile
And like Saul on the road to Damascus

I was conquered
Converted
Conflated
Converged now with your violin skin

Now my only violation is an irrepressible
Need to please you

It is as if the forest
Accidentally caught notice of you
On the edge of a riverbed
Conjured me from the marsh and
Placed me on your front steps
As a token of its appreciation