FOR MAY: A PARADELLE

May, I lie under the ends of your branches and gather the sap that pours out.
May I lie under the ends of your branches and gather the sap that pours out?
Cushion my fall, greens, for I will be here a while.
Cushion my fall, greens, for I will be here a while.
And I be a sap while I fall for your greens, May; here pours out of the ends.
Under, gather the branches that will cushion my lie.

I ask for your love near the foot of rusted dreams.
I ask for your love near the foot of rusted dreams.
I may treat your Burns: “Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear.”
I, May, treat your burns till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear.
May, rusted, the gang of my love burns dry your seas a’ foot.
I, dear, till I ask the near for your dreams’ treat.

Fulfill a wish: she opened the eyes of a blind man.
Fulfill a wish: she opened the eyes of a blind man.
I may not, but the world will see me. And, love,
I may not, but the world will see me and love.
I love May, and blind of a wish,
see the world—me, a man, the opened eyes—but will she not fulfill?

May, May, May. The eyes of a sap fulfill a wish:
Treat your rusted branches, your dry foot.
Out pour my greens and seas while I fall—opened for a’ the blind—and burn for the world.
Till I see dreams that will me, dear, gather your love-of-the-cushion.
Under here, I—a man—end, but not the love she will gang near.
Of the I lie, I ask: Be my…

For more information on Billy Collins’ invention of the paradelle, click here.

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