For these, I've saved for last:
my lips, wild orchid, my eyes
a long, beautiful winter, my arms
the hollow marsh, my heart a waiting
window, my feet the migrant geese.
My voice the echo in a shell, my hair
shifting weeds of sea washed up
on the hairless chest of shore.
My mind a jungle in the rain, my grief
a prickly weed, my dreams a shadow
on your cheek. My hands the cradle
of a universe holding stars.
