Ask no questions,

Love, the door inside me is locked
and the bones are begging to be let
loose with their drums and handbells,
with their tales of the sea at sunrise.
I confess to the carrying of secrets.
I confess to bearing songs
not meant for your tongue. Some longings
are too heavy to move; others,
too spiked to cling to. Leave
the unused to their dusty sleep— after all,
I have learned to live well enough
without them. Let me wring
my occasional tears, and stare
from time to time into corners
in which you see no incense.
Let me unbury my gods in secret
and rebind to them my prayers,
my necessary guilt. Let me believe
my happiness complete: this body
with your name on its gate, this deaf heart
that burns and shines and keeps on
turning the key.