Cape sorrel entwine her feet like an emerald dream
And her shoes are like swords floating in a stream.
With one step she invites passion, with another: life
Wishing her waists were what they seem.
She is so different from me, her eyes are a summer sky,
Her legs are tall and endless like a woven scene.
I don't know where I find her beauty: in her difference
Or in her movement, but to her I would surrender all I've been.
But she has no eyes for me, only for her dance,
Her perfumed scarf wistfull itches by her cheeks of cream.
Her chest is a landscape of crucifxes
And her black fleece ignores the call to gleem.
Fixed on love her hands embrace a new beauty:
A death as illicit as a harem.
Stars roll like waves on her stone lips
That bite away at iron rainbows so pristene.
I shout to her to come join me in the moonlit inlet
But she dances on, oblivious to my every dream.
The satyrs desecrating the marble manuscripts
Flee to the orange blossom at her black scream.
In one hand a funeral pyre reigns, in another
Wedding bells chime; she won't say what they mean.
O how I love her skirt of lace, which she
Breaks in two with steps that destroy and redeem.
For her to look at me I would learn the dances
Of harmony, sacrifice, oceans, mountain and stream.
But O heart she would never lool,
For no incest could ever entwine her feet of emeral dream.
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