Where did you learn to love, and how? Tell me, and I will trace your path Back through the thistled thicket and gnarled trees, Along the shallow brook of mossy stones and puckish caddis flies To the clearing where you began. Did the moon beckon with misty fingertips, or were you dropped down as prey for a prowling pack, Plump and squirming, an offering to the gods? Where did you learn to love, and how? Tell me, and I will map the lines Of heart and head, of sun and fate, To read the myth of you inscribed in folds of skin. Your palms outstretched, I light the lamp and hold it high So your right foot sees where the left has been.