TRYST

by A.R. Ammons

I’m to go see you tonight:
birds that know where to fly
are loose under my ribs:

your eyes fly here to my mind’s
eye: I dwell in them:
What if I’m frozen

When I see you; what if I burn
completely up: the birds
may break out and go

too soon; or, too bad
if my self flies to you
early, and I can’t follow.

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