[1] I give you a gift Of stones:

White stone, brown stone, Anchors to hold down Your each winged Eyelash from disappearing From my vision.

[2] I hold my gift On my tongue:

Your pubis, you belly, The windswept plazas of Venice, The fragrant, noisy souks of Cairo. There I bargain for a fair price As I am sold into your bondage.

[3] I sleep, your hand Holding mine:

Dark earth enters the belly. Arms become a basket Of birds, of stars. Roots coil and weave The limbs, white stone, brown stone. A kalpavkrish grows from the palms.