Poem of the week

Nighttime Begins with a Line by Pablo Neruda -- by Yusef Komunyakaa

So my body went on growing, by night,
went on pleading & singing to the earth
I was born to be woven back into: Love,
let me see if I can't sink my roots
deeper into you, your minerals & water,
your leaf-rot & gold, your telling & un-
telling of the oldest tales inscribed
on wind-carved rocks, silt & grass,
your song & prayers, your oaths & myths,
your nights & days in one unending lament,
your luminous swarm of wet kisses
& stings, your spleen & mind,
your outrageous forgetting & remembrance,
your ghosts & rebirths, your thunder stones
& mushrooms, & your kind loss of memory.
So my body grew you again.

(P.S. I added the last line myself. Unforgivable. Come and kill me, Yusef K. But I didn't like the way your wonderful poem ended. I thought it needed more of a zing at the end. Take it or leave it. Whatever. I like your poem better with my last line.)