geese                                                                soar
    as if                                                        they
         have                                          nothing
              to wor                       ry  about
                      they                  just
                          fly              in
                            the     shape
                                of  a
                                  V

I want obedience
With deep brown eyes,
Half my age
And a third my size,
Slim when thirty
And still good looking,
Fraigrant rice,
Stir-fry cooking,
I want what The West can't provide,
I'm in love with my dad's
Teenage, Thai bride.

Churches love an echo
Like a riot loves a crowd,
The bereaved were doing sombre
But she was doing loud,
The old man was in his coffin
Her lover couldn't make her stop,
In flagrante in the vestry
The wealthy widow was on top.

i listened
to the sweet melody
you created
by the sweep of your fingers
curving those delicate fingers
making your skin tingle
and rattle.
kissing each note
with a soft greeting
but a hard farewell.
unveiling your soul
and all your intracies

you burst blackberries between
your fingers. blue juices, sweet somehow,
drip down the curve of your wrist, bleed
like ink over the soft lines of the palm,
skin-colored fortune tellers. the spilled
blackberries leave letters in their ink-paths
here; perhaps an anagram of my name.
now sun calls you daughter. she nursed
you in her light-womb, watched history
unfold on earth like a crane stretching
its feathers. dropped you like a blessing
and brought the first sunset, beckoning sky’s
cotton-candy pinks, sugar-coated cream,
freshly-squished blackberry colours. dancing
down your hands still, sweet, saccharine
ink; all earth’s berry bushes stretch their
twig-arms toward you. the apple trees
call you sister, pick you bouquets of
honeysuckle. sun warmed their blossoms,
they say. their smell is smooth and sugared,
melting in your rosy-fingered hands,
like soft slices of daybreak, snippets of
syrupy dawn. you are eve now, stretching
bare skin in twilight, opening love-laden palms to
blooming bushes of roses, plucking them from
their stems like petal-coated candies; the apex of
nature, zenith of earth’s creatures. a thousand
years wax and wane; beyond the limits of time,
you are one with sky, all the sweet seconds in
history condensed. you pop a blackberry
into your mouth, delicate ink-skin bursting.