There
be no sting
on the tail of a dove

A soul
knows nothing
of suffering love

If I could breathe freely I would,
but there are these certain factors that make it hard to enjoy the fresh night air.
There's the smoke, the pollution, the dampness after the rain -
and you.

I have no interest in company,
occupied by my own thoughts as I enjoy the beautiful view of today's sunset.
Yet here you are, hard to ignore, despite being silent besides me.

And looking at you only makes me think more,
call you beautiful in my mind
and light up another cigarette.

The onions were crisp and sugar funked. The pumpkins plump
and less ordinary than the okra with the palsy.
The sweet peas were lumps of gnocchi tucked into emeralds
as ascendent as a vine of pregnant Ivy.
Coin purse puce where the rain slapped
and the fog of our tundra dropped anchor
where our meadows
were bent.

But what Vera wants to know
Is Why?

And what Heaven wants to know
Is Why Not?