|
| | So it came time |
| for me to cede myself |
| and I chose |
| the wind |
| to be delivered to |
| |
| The wind was glad |
| and said it needed all |
| the body |
| it could get |
| to show its motions with |
| |
| and wanted to know |
| willingly as I hoped it would |
| if it could do |
| something in return |
| to show its gratitude |
| |
| When the tree of my bones |
| rises from the skin I said |
| come and whirlwinding |
| stroll my dust |
| around the plain |
| |
| so I can see |
| how the ocotillo does |
| and how saguaro-wren is |
| and when you fall |
| with evening |
| |
| fall with me here |
| where we can watch |
| the closing up of day |
| and think how morning breaks |
|
|
