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.

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.

Ha – La – Li

(LoveSuicide for A-Dong)

‘And over Li Chiang, the snow range is turquoise

Rock’s world that he saved us for memory  

                  a thin trace in high air…’    – Ezra Pound

 

Cold fingers sketch the mist,

your outline

++++++pencilled

through dawn’s paper napkin.

 

I follow you under rose-boughs

overhung

 

++++++this cobble-road –

a sleeping scar in our giant’s backbone

that feathers ghosts

+++++++++++++++++++across

snow-peached skin.

 

I cup your hands at the crest,

cradling them to me

++++++before leaping

 

and our eyes

+++++++melt

++++++++++++++into the air.