We start with the perfect peal
The iris leaves a path of vanilla, its pillows sweeten
with your burden your charm drops
on the grass at my feet, dangling from my toe—
I’m showy—a glass lady’s-slipper
Your smile hooks onto my skin
It is sunlight entombed in the shadow of a leaf
pouring grace, milder, softer rue
We gather our skirts up into petals
cup sighs at our breasts
When we are done weaving dream candles
We begin again with the perfect peal
empty your song into my ear
Aromatherapy holds us in tiny islands
birthing in the black crystal
Gravity is not strong enough to bring those
islands down here in our cross-legged branches
Certain events hinge on a future
Tenses are weak
Serena in the bivalve, seas envelope.
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(31 October 2002, For Dana)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem