In public and in secret

I love them with a love
       stored deep in my dreamvaults,
with an ache kept fresh for them,
transported across continents in huge trucks,
unloaded.
I lash them with a love unloaded.

I love them with a crystal granite-solid,
       slate-varied, diamond-surprising, water-precious;
mined by monumental technology,
created in multiple places,
designed.
I work them with a love designed.

I love them with a mix refined, powdered,
       marketed,
carried in a velvet litter on strong shoulders,
carried in arms with an armed escort,
denatured.
I haze them with a love denatured.

I love them with an alloy
       made in crucibles on hillsides
by several metals melting,
worthy of statues and polished instruments,
well-tempered.
I trip them with a love well-tempered.

I love them with the old smell of leather,
       and denim and linen
washed in an ancient river,
hung in the sunshine,
arrayed.
I mark them with a love arrayed.

I love them with pieces
       of everything,
pieces of movies and frightening lives,
pieces of old debts
unaccounted.
I cram them with a love unaccounted.

I love them with my who, my future, my rooftop!
I trust them with my angles,
my ankles, my axons,
my axioms.

I sing them a song that will never be written.
I show them a transformation done only for them.
I push them with everything
I say, and everything
I wear

and I rake them when I’m naked
with a love
unaided.
With a love
unaided.

What do you think?