I have learned to write love poems

in ways that no longer work.

I was trained with tools

that can no give shape

to my love for you.

I have no pretty words; I have no fine images.

So I can only say:

my love for you is a love for us

our class, our organization, our history.

Every specific about you—your smile, your writing, your teaching, your body—

is exciting precisely because

it is you connected to us,

to me, to the transformation of the world.

The old love poems are fragile next to that.

The old images fade.

The old poets sit mute.