The Trees Will Sleep

Chrystalla,

lost girl,

your pale mark

and mulberry punches

underdressed

in the memory of your old lovers,

their bodies

time-bent with the apple boughs,

Siamese skin

cut from other sky.

 

You must

remember to breathe

in the sincerity of night,

where

those casual hearts still beat

like a pomegranate morning,

and

those two rising suns still loom

deathless

behind your freckled eyes.

 

Karla M.

Goddess

Her face points upward,

snow-covered precipice,

a wing of light

against the city’s blackened cheek.

 

Embark upon the ancient spice trails

of her breath,

follow the Li River

and set sail to Elephant Mountain,

 

a frozen emerald

 shivering in the lemon sunset,

like the ripples in rock-pools

at her feet.

 

Step free from dream’s edge

and pull down the sky,

heaven’s curtain

                                where

 

‘rice grows and the land is invisible,

by the pomegranate water,

                                      in the clear air

                                                   over Li Chiang’.

I, Luna

Shiver

‘neath the ebb and flow of a tide,

your water-bitten skin

off-blue

dripped in night’s inkwell.

 

Lay under her

and she’ll have seen the sun once,

warmer shoulders parting waves,

two eyes wide like cities

blanketed by stars,

 

breathing the same sky,

but in search for clearer seas.

She washes over you,

this

rose-tinted moon,

 

and half-light at dark

in Earth-spun sleep,

she’ll carry you from the shore

to set you free,

let you leave

like driftwood on the ocean.

 

for O.