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.


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