She exposed her stomach. The wide berth of hips
like a continental plain, like a milky way
or a river of dim stars. I opened my eyes
to her stupefying mystery, incoherent code
and mumbled jargon. She has shown herself
the way a flower does, the way that blossoms
begin to line the roadsides in Spring. I have
not known a geography like her before, not known
an encyclopedia as dense, a choreography as
deft as that of her thighs. The water moved
in the words I spoke, in the muscles of my tongue
and the legislation of my poetry. I have held
the light of gods in sound, the awful music
of the ruler which is beyond all knowledge.
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