Who invited those monsoons into our wedding bed that night
In which we gathered feathered kisses for a lonely cotton-moon
And blew brilliant bubbles into the deep blue sky of desires?
Dear keeper of conscience who remembered to forget
Can you forgive my desire to live?
Who crushed five hundred and nine stars under my feet
And placed eight moles on a never-to-be-erased image
Which gods lit incense sticks to hallow those mirrors?
Dear sweetner of desires that were never to be,
Were they sparkling in my eyes; those volcanoes on my skin?
Whose deep liquid pools of eyes sang an evening song
When the stream flowed against light and rocky brooks
Was all that wetness to remain in lonely nooks?
Dear eraser of tendered destiny that has to be,
Who traced numbness to rouse it into a sweet-ache?
Who ran the length of time along my arms and returned naked
To that place where we met, before wombs put us to sleep
Did you sleep-walk into heaven straight from a nightmare?
Dear prince of dreams that were to be,
Are there places that should have been touched?
No comments:
Post a Comment