Want of Words

(sonnet)

A gift so rare: mere words that strike me hard  
Extending want that merely wants for words.
Those hardened wants reveal my love unbarred,
Her words, the visions of the love they spurred.

I wonder how she finds my words’ equip,
Does she find in their rise and fall appeal?
Does she, their motion thrilling, find their grip,
A structure that her flowing wants reveal?

I take my hardened love in hand, I think
Of her hand, too: The tension of its press,
The slickened slide and pull that guides to brink,
Her curve of fingers’ unrelent express.

I wish it was those hands, not words, compete,
Our comings sought, and not this po’m’s complete.