It’s rare you meet a mortal Whose body is a riddle Whose body is riddled with moonlight shrines Whose Heaven is her Whose God is the thought of herself Whose eyes are tiles in Turkish bath houses Whose hair is a house abandoned with the ghosts of children Whose walk would make a cat ride turtleback Who is both shy as a baby fox in a tree Yet as confident as a wolf under the naked moon To watch you… To watch you bathe your feet in the dew-dropped grass To smell the morning air that mothers the train horn of you waking up I don’t know But I want you. My heart floats down the creek in the cemetery Alongside the pear trees Glass stepping-stones Two-stepping wind chimes The silence hangs on the beach-white trellises. I am able to think quicker because I have you near me Like the ancients with their Gods And your God is the thought of yourself And your Heaven is you I belong to you. I trace my hands down your body Navigate your mouth with my tongue And beat with your heart. That’s why my palms are so smoothed My mouth is so free And my love is so submissive. Oh, how I’d show you your eyes Your bloodshot eyes your pupils Your eye blinks turn the pages and keep me reading the story.