The figures in a pattern that describe
the months and years, the yellow morning star
and the martial warrior in Leo. The planets
name the days while the moving luminaries
draw lines like scripts. The loops of the trees
and birds, the language of the green leaves
as they change color and fall. I see her eyes,
her hair and skin, the color of her tongue
and the way it moves. The argument of light
in the early morning moves on the surface
of the wet bayou. I have kissed her lips
a thousand times, recited several poems
and made agreements. The cycles of light
reveal her form in many different ways.
No comments:
Post a Comment