Unseen across gardens of indeterminate breath
a Dona lilts
her soaring wander of demise. She furrows
a night valley of love
lost in the singed foothills of afternoon.
Heat and an array of possible attempts
to give us voice
prevail. She airs her Don,
She divas him,
undivided behind narratives
and offered singularly to all
on charred lawns.
Mais poemas de Amy Sensei nos sites: