I revolve lately around
the growing pile of things I
can give you: tokens, moments,
honey, salt, sex.
And what I might glean,
among your rushes in your field--
words upon words, tumbling sentences,
bright thoughts and slight verbs.
For this chance, I can
be Ruth, I can be docile or pretty
or patient, but I wonder
if maybe here, at last, the old rules
do not apply.