it's here, in the fat fields,
when the days are swollen like blackberries, and
the lemon tree is heavy with epiphanies; that
I, a seedling, flourish with the kisses of your mouth.
each dawn you wrap your immortal light around the blue stars-
your voice rustles the bees from their hive;
they take flight, and make love to the dandelions.
iridescent, you arrive in the butterfly, and
like the peach, you ripen with each hue of summer.
I, a philosopher, captive in my tower, have become a poet-
these ink stained fingers pluck you from the bough.
I take vengeance in your body-
a savage that ravages the cluster of your navel.
scarlet lips full with sun and song,
pomegranate breast, honeysuckle strands,
rose apple thighs-
you are summer, statuesque in your surrender and sweet.