and contains my dancing soul
even when you're motionless
like an abandoned shrine
I watch from the stems
that grow toward you
I watch from the vines
that write your name
your angles are priceless
I paint reflections of the blade
your strut gives off
the little birds
with flashing beaks
that follow your fragrant circuit
twine around my steps in shadow
and pierce my thread.
No comments:
Post a Comment