my love
she is noir-et-blanc
she sits by
the riverbanks
of my eyes;
she swims inside.

she swims and swims and swims inside
she swims, comes up to rest again

and what do you think?
mi amor, esta
colorida.
pero todo lo que ella sabe
is a world that makes her
black or white.

when it comes to precious,
beating hearts...
where is there room for grey?
and so,
she is noir-et-blanc
while holding many shades:

for there upon deliberation
on the precipice
lives the product of a life
under working eyes--

is she fair or stormy-skied,
do her flowers grow?
could you build a house on her?
and is she high, or low?