Flight 

Christian Wiman

                            -- after Anna Akhmatova 

In the end we love the line love cannot cross. 

 In the end we fall for what we fail. 

Forget friendship. Ardor. 

 Forget the years that only grow harder 

as the soul recedes in what the years bring, 

 grown alien to any touchable thing. 

Touch me. As I am. As you can. 

 My heart a bird's heart just beyond your hand.