The purple trails of my sluggish tears,
streaks to my chin,
red-faced bursts of burnt flowers in my eyes—
my lemon-stung eyes cry for you, darling.
Acid visions blurring; love-stained spring dresses twirling,
hair-twined daisies spinning, air perfumed with feminine laughter
fresh as the dew-scented sun.
The warm coconut-milk of your feet spills gently
onto the trampled daisies, which drink it up like flowers.
I want to see you, darling, once more, before you
leave—but you have left. I left your funeral
because I heard you talking to me, quietly like
the drumming rain. And in the shade
I saw you, a raspberry I wanted to pick,
to ingest and live warmly forever in your eyes
—they were blue like sapphire-berries and I
(More lavender bursts of memory.)
Picnicking under apple trees,
pears redolent of lovemaking in apple-strewn meadows,
lips and lips kissing earth-ground blanket
naked as the clear sky,
flushed with cheeks breathless in their hot love
and desire ripe as female breasts.
Soft and comfortable your lap like a bed of honeysuckle.
No rain, no sorrow, no regret was there....
no tears and there was no time.