The thief left it behind:
the moon
at my window.

She was a gone child

Gone like her daddy from her

Gone like what men had taken from her

Gone like the love of her mother

---------------------------------------------------------­--

He was a gone child

Gone like his first love

Gone like what he had lost to the war

Gone like the peace his mind once had

so many places to go
so many things to see
so many things to do
so many people to meet

and yet i am stuck in this insignificant  town.

Her world is crashing
Down, down
All around her
She cries out
Time to release
All the pain
All the fear
Nowhere to go
No one to care
Tired of fighting
She ceases struggle
The battle's lost
Lights dim
Thoughts fade
A faint smile rests upon her lips
A rare pleasure...
Overridden by hope lost
And countless tears
Now she may rest
Yes, now you may rest Girl
Peace at last
Your wish come true
Cry no more, don't speak
Sleep, sleep...

Iris peels back
three generous petals,
ample in exposure,
a gravitationally drawn
dress, *******,
with drops and folds, a downward-
opening, bares elegant anatomy,
stripped from the waist
of a lighter three petals, lifting,
inside, reflective,
reaching skywards, and naked
ribbed with natural frill,
raw with the colours of flower flesh
white tiger stripes
and purple veins,
curling towards the ground like tears
and lifting up like laughter,
with centered yellow streaks
that lead into the heart,
where another tri-petal formation
folds in on itself,
as if to contain some sacred secret
that is gently holding at her *****

    a trinity
    within a trinity
    within a trinity
    of beauty

her naked convolutions coil into
just the right amount of earthly space,
so perfectly held there in the air
with poised and dancing stillness,
the perfect allure
of a delicate goddess,
rooted in the ground
but living also
inside the I,
elevated by the gaze
into limitless imaginal expanse,
no mere flower, in relation
      
                she is
                an entrance
                into love

Can I explain this to you? Your eyes
are entrances the mouths of caves
I issue from wonderful interiors
upon a blessed sea and a fine day,
from inside these caves I look and dream.

Your hair explicable as a waterfall
in some black liquid cooled by legend
fell across my thought in a moment
became a garment I am naked without
lines drawn across through morning and evening.

And in your body each minute I died
moving your thigh could disinter me
from a grave in a distant city:
your ******* deserted by cloth, clothed in twilight
filled me with tears, sweet cups of flesh.

Yes, to touch ******* made us worlds
stars, waters, promontories, chaos
swooning in elements without form or time
come down through long seas among sea marvels
embracing like survivors in our islands.

This I think happened to us together
though now no shadow of it flickers in your hands
your eyes look down on ordinary streets
If I talk to you I might be a bird
with a message, a dead man, a photograph.