Daylight takes its first breath,
a lace curtain catching the wind and stretching toward a woman
who stands cool and slender
as fluted glass.
rubbed their lives into the smoothness
of jars made from the river's clay
and the flesh of men seeking
their salve-polished hands.
that knew aloe leaves and sweet grasses.
They didn’t need to touch the horizon;
hat task was left for the trees which still hold credence as pines shadow
the morning and a lady who stands beneath
their fringed aroma. She smells infinity,
inhales the past and wonders why
she can't easily reach her lover.
through the universe, its colander of stars.
Passion sparkles at a distance, mapped
light years from her heart and her throat bursting into the darkness --
a white iris
enflamed by the blush of dawn.
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