Here I go, using any excuse to evangelize about a poet I like.  Medbh McGuckian is fantastic, and she has a great sense of compression.  I posted a lovely poem of hers over on the quasi-knitting side of my interweb presence.  Both are about love, of course, but in very different ways.

Blood-Words
Medbh McGuckian

Your silk-dry
mate cry
is a name I would cord
to my tongue,
eye-locked
in an eyelet
where the abrupt knot
of your bloodline
touches the bed-edge shore.

The greenest journey
is a torrent
of oxygen,
acres of water
eagle your arms
from scuffing the slim
room of death
to the self-told
faces from two lifetimes.

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