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.