In your body is the garden of flowers
after The Songs of Kabir, IV
Time pauses in your glance
and your eyes blossom.
Hydrangea petals sparkle
in the swirl of beauty blowing
through the gate of your lips.
Love pulses through the stem,
quickens the emerald flowering
of beauty as it travels, down,
down, to the tangled hunger of roots
in the fertile soil of your heart.
moonlight comes screaming down
pure vertical—cold like the drop
of a solid steel elevator
pounding into the ground—splat
making the barn, trees, hedge, fence
cower into pale, flat shadows;
above, against the scattered dust of stars,
an airplane circles, fringing the horizon
so high it seems a wayward star
sucked in by the vacuum of space
so high the raw explosion of its engine
is reduced to the distant growl
of an angry hound
quiet only in comparison
Diana L. Conces is a native Texan whose poetry has appeared in numerous print and online publications, a newspaper, and a city bus. In addition to writing, she enjoys jewelry making, knitting, embroidering poetry onto fabric, and various crafty things she has been lured into by Pinterest. She writes a humor blog at https://dianalconces.blogspot.com/.