I want to feel the breeze on my unveiled face
and my unlocked hair, this morning,
I am walking barefoot.
I want to feel the earth on my feet.
How she has gone warm
under the anger of the days.
Or how she shivers in the days
of agony, the cold winters.
Before the night was done,
I plucked and hid some in my pocket.
There it stays, the darkness,
close to my heart. Sometimes
the stars smile, pomegranate cloves,
bleeding sliced under my knife.
There is a wave receding,
stealing the earth under my feet away.
A projectile flew with the birds,
racing them a while, but it drops now
into the water in a thud.