Of Molluscs

As the tide rises, the closed mollusc

Opens a fraction to the ocean's food,

Bathed in its riches. Do not ask

What force would do, or if force could.

A knife is of no use against a fortress.

You might break it to pieces as gulls do.

No, only the rising tide and its slow progress

Opens the shell. Lovers, I tell you true.

You who have held yourselves closed hard

Against warm sun and wind, shelled up in fears

And hostile to a touch or tender word—

The ocean rises, salt as unshed tears.

Now you are floated on this gentle flood

That cannot force or be forced, welcome food

Salt as your tears, the rich ocean's blood,

Eat, rest, be nourished on the tide of love.