So here is what I came up with:
FOR KARIN & MARCO ON THEIR WEDDING DAY
No magician or jeweler
wrighting baubles, such things
that fool the eye with their glint
but buckle like dry grass underfoot;
rather a microscope gazing
longly at fat drops: too strange
for the eye those things that love
lays bare, little things writhing slightly,
tiny lives what in expiration give
bubbles to bread.
No lock, no key, no door, no house,
no bed, no hearth, no cellar, no ceiling,
no window, nor wall.
Love is the ground.
No oxidized shine that bleeds black
& dim from the tongue of the air,
a cog pitted & dull, swinging
the arm of a clock, an engine
that purrs or groans, seizes
under weight, gives in, but to sputter
quick again when coaxed, love lives
in the creased skin or the folds
of the brain, doubling surface in its
tiny fist of a skull. No heart, but
the darling of the hand & the mind.
No face, no eyes, no ears, no nose,
no arms, no legs, no hands,
no feet, nor breast.
Love is the bone.
No beacon or lighthouse lamp, flame
a slave to the hours of its breath;
does not guide the ships to shore
but lives in the airless depths of cold
trenches where wide-eyed fish swim
by the sheen of their skins alone.
Or love is a shrimp in the sand, out
to feed with all bathers asleep.
A brook that babbles uphill, a book
of blank pages, rewritten daily, or
hour by hour, minute by minute.
No word, no act, no ink, no pen,
no poem, no name, no spirit,
no god, nor star.