Existing as a vine, I brought you my love
from every avenue.
I learned from bird flocks, and like them,
I spoke and sang without interpreter.
Each time you sought my source,
I grew a hundred more arms, your slaves.
I said, "Kiss my lips, wherever you find them."
Hummingbirds carried our portraits in a locket.
Clouds are never far from the sky, love.
Blue jays find them and call.
We hid our first hearts at the base of a wall,
faces furled at our fingertips
Crying, "Look here! Look here!" in magnificent cowardice.
For The Sunday Muse #44.
Saturday, February 23, 2019
Asian pear tree branch
mother of April's white blooms
hosts brass temple bells
A three line poem for "Season Your Poetry"
Someone activate the holo-doctor. I feel funny.