[1]

She stands up, still, Like carnations In a florist’s window.

I am on the street, On a clear fall day After few, many, days of rain

Eyeing her. I have tied My hunger down To my spine. Shop glass,

Silica of years and miles, Also gives back to sight Silvers of myself on petals

Of afternoon light. Darkness Meanwhile burrows deeper In the hollows of my fingerbones.

[2]

Say yes. I am waiting to unbolt my fist. I am waiting to root you in my chest.

Say yes. I am waiting to go on wandering into The unceasing and changing seasons Wearing a flaming shirt of carnations.