I'm going to ask Neruda to write
a love sonnet for you on my behalf,
a perfect sonnet made of starry night
and fire, like roses in a blue carafe;
I'm going to request that he include
images of you standing by the sea
with me on the shores of our latitude,
always to be there, and happy to be.
I want him to write a beautiful poem
that celebrates you and my love for you,
to keep in a secret place of your own
as if it were a timeless rendezvous.
But if the master won't do this for me,
I'll do my best with my own poetry.