I cannot get
close enough, even inside
the wet warmth and gentle sway
of your tropical seas, even inhaling
the purple perfume dream of your blooming
lilacs, even filling my mouth with
your tart sweet juice
after I peel a peach.
I do not want to watch waving fields
of your sun-honeyed strands. I want
to be their tassels
trembling when you breathe. Let me be
your warm touch in the morning,
your cool caress in the dark, drops of you
rippling your surface,
the chirping you make
because you can fly.
