Smiling in the Silk of Flags

Whose kiss initiates me only for a moment

Whose darkest secret hides the stranger’s eye

Whose tongue caresses the moment before action

Whose voice invokes the powdery light of sunset

Whose words drop leafy at my feet

Whose breathing has yet to crystallize my thought

Whose wrath endangers wayward stars

Whose countenance calms constellations

Whose pale skin drinks the milk of the moon

Whose narrow shoulders spread ancient wings

Whose lovely silhouette barely discerns itself

Whose blue eyes tell the good will of friends

Whose buttocks remain enviously shapely

Whose lips reconcile us yes before they spit