Just Like Honey

He said he loved her
Like a burning building
Just as she decided
To leave his bed of clover.
She had felt it could be
Not just anyone
Who could look into her jasmine tea
And make the world take off,
But no light entered
His eucalyptus eyes
And they deserted
Her five-point gaze,
Causing a tangle of orange blossoms
In her honey-haired head
And more than enough fury
To drain her cup.

Henry Walter

We saw the
Lemon slice
Moon cradle
Rocking above
The church funeral
And heard the
Mourners' songs.

We watched as
Painted carnations,
Lunar blue,
Were buoyed about
The pregnant coffin
And felt
Survivors' guilt.

We looked into
Black, lidless,
Crescent gazes
Reflecting inside
Our empty cups
And listened for
Grandpa's laugh.

Photograph

In the shadow of the mountain
Blood cradles the soul.
Brothers and sisters like potatoes
Develop strange eyes.
Twins of spirit pass
From fellowship to film.

We are integrated,
Subjects not subjected,
Our girls blooming,
Articulate with imagination;
Our boys brightening,
Relentless with wild ambition.
Dancing cells
Happening backward,
Growing up
And down,
Eating our way through
Fields into orchards
Across dirt roads,
Steep inclines and slow slopes
Until we are as old as the forest.

We crave the company of peers.
We share the moments,
Find sacred the ecstasy
Of kisses and rings
That slip to sea with the moon
As blood changes form
In the foam of rising tides.