CASIDA OF THE RECUMBENT WOMAN
To see you naked is to recall the earth.
The smooth earth, cleared of horses,
the earth reedless, a pure form,
closed to the future: a silver boundary.
To see you naked is to understand
the concern of rain in search of a frail waist,
or the fever of the vast-faced sea
without finding the light of its cheek.
Blood will ring in the alcoves
and appear with lightning swords,
but you'll not know where lie concealed
the heart of toad or the violet.
Your belly is a combat of roots,
your lips a dawn without contour.
Beneath the bed's tepid roses
the dead groan, waiting their turn.