To move about her like a house. I love
the halls and doorways, the way the floor squeaks
when she walks on it. The first door around
the corner is a darkening bedroom,
a couple Buddhas on the windowsill,
a dozen books. I undressed her there,
moved from room to room with the freedom
of an enlightened being. It has proved
impossible for me to loose myself
from the architecture that she is,
the nectar of illuminating Sun
that pours on me. I want to live inside
her self, to move the way she moves, to love
the wanderlust that frees her from these walls.
No comments:
Post a Comment