Your sun-shafts and leafy decay
are the scents and fingertips I desire.
You are yellow eyes,
cloth of nightfall, woman with blackened earth,
and in your days my jumble of dreams tumbles to sea.
My soul’s twin dyes your gaze.
My sour kiss turns to sugar on your egret neck.
Sleeper, long dozer under evening’s canopy,
how the solitary rains and birds
believe you to be delirious trees, as I do.
"You shape the air to cradle the heavens," I sing
to rocks and waves. Moon catcher,
painter of clouds along my abandoned shore,
stalker of the heights of my sorrow,
you steal your green regard from a jeweled ocean.
You awaken in the well of my arms, my dear,
my love, and my flocks of music spread open as wide
as afternoon’s light. My mellifluous death
is born on the cliff of your eyes of wild ginger.
In your mourning, the lightening-strike fire begins.