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To Part VIITo Part VII              Her fingers fall upon the keys...To Andrey Kneller's next piece


This Love
part VIII

The heart is drained
        and the ink 
            hasn't dried yet.
Pull the shades lower.
It's private, 
    don't look over 
          my shoulder.
Too late to hide it,
        it's spilling,
              it's brimming over
the sink.
    In wild convulsions,
            it surges,
it floods the buildings,
        the schools, the churches,
the squares, 
    the courtyards
        and Eden's orchards.
I can't contain it,
      this love is gorgeous!

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