the pivot and dive of this
heart shell, excavated
by sea, by the kindness
of seabirds,
by the red arrow
of this raga breath:
she makes thunder
into a temple
she makes waves
into a hurricane dress
the bride lifts her sandy veil
into the pure butter
of being

Save a handful of wildflowers:
black eyes of delphinium,
black lips of iris,
black spines of sunflowers. Let
the body suffice as an emblem
for the thing we most want to avoid.
We’re opening and closing,
we’re opening and closing
this crepe paper tiger
we bought from a Chinese woman
last June. Do we really believe
divination read from patterns
and shadows held up against
the […]