I don’t know what it is I love the most

Poetry by Philip Miller

for Cathy

I don’t know what it is I love the most
About you: your hair? the color of your eyes?
A skin’s soft touch? Despite how hard I try
To quantify, this list not even close.
Aware of what’s at stake, a lover’s guile
Will seek, entice, construe — all in the name
Of a thing called love — striving to lay claim
To Cupid’s arrows among rank and file.

I know it’s…