To hell with a name! Who knows what to call
a god you can't describe? I held her down
a while, she squirmed into the bed. The ceiling
fan revolved above us in a music
like the whirling stars. I heard a song
come out of her, she came into the world
creating things, some triangles and scripts
I can't translate. She bit me when I thought
of anything but her. How could I? When
the colors turn, the clouded passion sets
low on the horizon, she has no words. Trees
don't speak, the air must sing without a sign,
without a designation. She swallows
my body and annihilates me.
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