Temple

For the last time,
believe me or believe my hands
stretched up out
of habit.
Take

for granted, take me
at my word,
that I mean as
genu
ine this
     reflection of sin
these cupped hands
or these closed eyes leaking
water.

These legs too
are folded like white
napkins.

Number my head and
                    nail me
and keep what you find.

Valerian

rosemary bought us a riverbed
              (all my gold)
we wore nightgowns
in the rafters

circled our heads
          left circles
circle
a circle wants to be perfect.

there is nothing lovelier than your arm
            (i shall see more)
   and the terror
of your eyes.

Hat

They say you can't sin in dreams.

I say I've tried.
And same thing happens,


I learned the best way possible
how shame
becomes
grateful for being caught.

Gentle

At times like this there is nothing I can offer you
but my silence and attention.

If you knew
how much I wish my voice
was softer
or my movements
like the mare's neck
like swans

you'd see both
honey and dung
in my eyes

the hope of refinement.

Because gentle is not proud, but good
and worth having.
And worth giving to one
who waits so patient
with hands folded.

Sibling

When I stand in the corner, and you stand across from me,
I am delighted like a pillow fight
and almost ready

to bite you hard or roar
a little

and prove I am still older
(though you are stronger).

Her Speech

Your words are like raindrops collected

sliding leaf to leaf and lastly

              dropping

into water

leaving

ripples.

Her Mother

There is a thin rim
of blue
around
your eyes,
their blackness two
round spoons
molasses
skin like olive wood.

There are not words
there is no hand small
enough to curl around
your hair and find
each one
perfect

like flakes
like butterflies' tongues.