Woman

standing fast at the boundaries of

fuzzed brush thistle scattering  

nearby: tousle of bees, the intimate flurry.

the sun feasting on the shut-eyed grin-

you bed in a labyrinth of

Chrysanthemum haze.

when the procession and veil come down billowing

and you re-adorn colorless garments,

when you have made a song 

about liberty as

another man’s lips give flight

to your name. you arrive

in the crease of milk-white and 

summon the cries of babies across wood rooms-

when a meager sonnet shouts against your shape,

and braves a visioning of

my body’s solemn cargo and perfected damage 

as a morph of dip and elevation,

as the stealth-bodied stag who mimics fast waters 

in a dense, muted wood-

I would wander with you 

inside the red-brown ancestry of autumn

as this cathedral of ecstasy bellows return,

as gentleness pirouettes infinity.