Sudden stars tossed on the raiments
of a red evening,
resting in the desert air.
Woman, talk to me;
your words are thunder…
Cloudlings vault low
over the belly of a dreaming earth.
Remember this:
your hair is flowering grass
bending on a draught moon.
When you leave in the morning,
remember this:
my eyes are hewn rock
baking under streams of sunlight.