I could lose you, but I haven’t so far.
I might amuse you, but I daren’t, so far.
I could confuse you, but I won’t, so far.
Would I refuse you? No, I say.

I’ve chosen you, yes, this far
from where I was born, faraway
from where I woo you, using my hands

to soothe you, meeting your hands . . .
Published in TOK: Writing the New Toronto, Book 3. Purchase the book to read the full piece.