That if I could make everything perfect for you I would--
That if I could feel the crush of you-- the need of you--
Just once maybe I could be satisfied-- or else
Never satisfied again, but full of a greedy keening
That keeps me at bay, at heel, at attention--
That if I could keep the taste of you on my tongue I would--
That if I could touch the heart of you-- hear
The blood pulse of you-- moving deep under my hands
Like a prayer on a Sunday morning-- I might
Sing myself content, for the mouthful of soul I could swallow.