Ah Dame, I don't know how else to love you
so I just start juggling. I'm on the street

three floors below your hospital window,
lofting fish or birds that graze against my hands

and fly off, juggling cancer cells and carnations,
slipping in the bowling pin

we snuck out of that alley in Maine.
Then I'm juggling freight trains, and angels, and elephants,

dropping them all. I don't care.
so long as you can stand near your high window and laugh,

So long as you stand near your hospital bed
clapping your hands.