The thing I always loved about your poetry
was that every single one,
regardless of the subject,
was a love poem.
Because of knowing you
I had begun to believe
that all the really best poets
are simply the really best lovers
of the world.
And although I’ve never really bought into the theory
that an artist creates solely out of yearning
I can’t help but notice
that even as your poetry trickled out
you were finding a brand new joy,
a place to overflow into that wasn’t there before.
And I’m happy for you--
though I mourn your loss.