i don't think you know how i love you.
not because i never say as much (i do;
it's all i can do not to say it over and over,
a cherry stem i am tying with my tongue)
but only because, when you toss the words
back (aw, love you too), i can see
it takes you less thought to knot the stem;
i never quite believe our intentions
are exactly symmetrical, even as you mirror
them so nicely. because really, i say the words
but only in the way a dam says water -
so deafening that the details are always out of earshot
and if it does its job well, you will never see the cascade
it holds back. i love you, and you know in theory (i think),
but when you tell me you love me too, i believe
it is only a self-contained watering can.