Not coming out
Spring...
Except through
Your fingers ...
Through Your eyes ...
A rainbow,
arched over rice fields
frogs,
Start croaking...

I Become a mother ...
In A bright Sunny day ...

Illinois cornfield...
too many fireflies at once
too many fireflies...

Oh my little black star!
I know the grooves between your hands...
Smelling you Among my bright motherly clothes
Oh white and free lily,
In my June ...!
The butterfly’s
flaming wings
on the rim of the birdbath...
You are the
  Honeysuckle,
Blooming in the wind ...
You are a fetus,
You have not been
In my femininity
womb ...
O my flesh!
O my spring!
And O beyond my
cadaver...!
Rainbows dancing
Happily...
In the glitter of your eyes ...
Oh, my flower of the moon!