Red candles are raging with volcanoes......
The doors that were open to problems
for drafts, anxieties, were
closed tightly........
Rose petals from our hands---
scarlet boats in the sea of large ships........ And we---
in swimming, in our twilight with aromas,
bath with white spaces---
expansive, whispering in a whispering chorus and
along the exhalation lines that have become parades........
The sea is not divided equally---
the anchor chain with another chain of the anchor
ships inextricably intertwine there........
The body burns violently but does not melt, that's all........
I am indifferent to plots from fairy tales, but:
you are like a soldier in love with beauty,
I am your ballerina from the palace........ and I am
led by the wind of love to the burning.
It sounds
we are flowing in molten tin water in a circle of flicker........
The night pours a ringing bell from us........
Scarlet boats sink to the bottom........
Candles age........ and the flame wavers, the waves sway,
hearing a rush of 'more'---
each sleep more and more frightens........
Hair, like wet reeds, is beaten in the face, but gently........ snake under your fingers........
Look---to the ceiling, like a copper dome
(reflections give such a warm color to it)........
You kiss me through this water shawl
harder and longer, until dawn........
