Compost Fix

...
...
She chased me from the poppies
a woman discovers gravity, celestial
plans, vestal virgins

in hip pockets--so she says with volition:
make rickshaw from bone
see all pliant florae fold
metamorphos into palm

we talk of missing home, honey locust thorns,
bellies chafe wild flowers, make their marks
on forehead's slick (even slicker wet pebbles)

imagine goose bumps when I heard she was
a galaxy uncharted, a space between thumbs,
knuckles--and I pressd her for worth

watched her butterfly over the skies of Cyprus--

look down

I must have compressed universe
in these fingers.


(To be featured in: Word for/ Word, 2007)