My lover gave me green leaves
with the mud of the garden on them,
radishes sharp and red,
nasturtium flames.
He gave me the tender heart
of a cabbage, its glossy coat,
a loaf of bread studded deep
with seeds.
He gave me the note
the blackbird
I’d cried at the blackness of
by the river sang.
He gave me the struck fire
of the thoughts
in his mind—
flint on flint.
He gave me the taste,
direct on his tongue,
of the syllables their embers
did not destroy.
He gave me his word,
the word of an Adam—
a promise,
should he set eyes on the sun.
He gave me a drop of the dew
to hold.
To see my face in it.
To look through.
He gave me,
in the chrisomed palm
of his empty hand—
a gasp of joy.
– Josephine Dickinson
Postscript:
A gorgeous poem by Josephine Dickinson.
Tagged: imagery, Josephine Dickinson, love poetry