First you begin with the body, the memory of the body,
you unfold it like paper, the crease
between thumb and finger, you say
here is her arm, leg. You open your mouth,
the nest where you have placed your tongue.
Remember, it is impossible to remember
without reflection so you go to the water.
Here is the water. You take her
eyes beneath glass, beneath mirrors—
chrysanthemums under sky, underwater.
Monday, March 13, 2006
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