is weeping. If I could,
I would gather her tears in my hands
along with her violet petals.
On those purple rafts,
we would survive.
*******************
no more than the bird with piercing voice
considers its own song
do I consider mine.
My singing of you
breaks from the throat
like a drowning man gasps
for breath, even if it means
breathing water.
*******************
but all is to be dared, because even a person of poverty
like myself knows the difference
between a dead dollar and the one
alive, passed from hand to hand,
the gamble goosing up your skin
at the chimney of possibility.
*******************
you burn me
not once but twice.
In the fire first
of your blue tongue.
And then, the flame
of your breasts
branding mine.
*******************
sweetbitter unmanageable creature who steals in
unbidden, is there nothing
I can say to stop you?
Listen. The cymbals of her fingers.
You are bloodlust, sublime ache
to touch her waist. You flower
in the sorrow of her soft belly.
Whirls of daisies. Come in.
******************
gold anklebone cups
a few of many hoards
I've stashed away of you, love.
And olives, dates, the apricot
of your cheek sweetening my thigh.
Whose treasure is more?
These are beautiful!
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