To lose your hair, to lose your temper, 
if you see what I mean, your precious time, 
to fight a losing battle, 

In a free country I would be shot for my thoughts of you.
Where thought was free as radio waves
       my mind would broadcast your outrageous beauty.

 On the mantle a bowl of sand from the Sahara,
a lover’s gift, and as such the map cowers
beneath the bed. So this is the continent

I do not recall who trapped me in that darkness
The world knows as a vessel of light,
By what cruel trick or Asian sorcery

Happiness, in the fairy tale, comes hobbling
disguised as a hag. And the prince takes pity
on her, bringing her to bed, not knowing this

Reckless as a pack of wild dogs,
autumn leaves loosen and lodge
in the window bars. Each black-tipped

that feeling
of resignation
that comes

When they were wild
When they were not yet human
When they could have been anything,

Then one day the gray rags vanish
and the sweet wind rattles her sash.
Her secrets bloom hot. I’m wild for everything. 

Nasturtium surplus.
         Water curls and lilies,
lily water. Vermilion and orange