legs long as the universe,
Feet Perched over the
Arc de Triomphe
Like two soldiers
readying themselves for revolution.
The yoke light of the sun Brisés
In the fields of her body-
The fields bloodied for God and country.
For love in effigies.
The red poppies cry the names of the fallen.
They passed the torch to us to raise.
With a sip of champagne
She beckons the Honeysuckles
That nurse the wounded young.