Mother-of-Pearl
Love, you are
An unhatched yolk:
A jewel sewn into the lining
Of my red winter coat:
I sponsor your hibernation.
O tiny white eye
You lie
Unknowing of my motions
You grow
Slowly, devoted and baroque.
One day you’ll smoke
An unnamed brand and stand
And kiss my nightmare
At the garden gate
Goodbye. Your fate is laid
Out. Layer by layer
I cultivated you from sand
The embryonic plan
Of a Russian doll
With a four-chambered heart.
My mulberry, my art,
My implant. Some day
I may blow air
Into your frame. For now though
You remain my scarlet burden.
Page(s) 20
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