WE BRIBE THE NIGHT TO BE DAWN

We bribe the night to be dawn and leave

the bed for the stranger in the final parting of cold

between our hands. We look ahead and find grief –

the windows, the river, the sky, and the apple trees

all becoming grief. As with us there is water at the beginning of

the sea within me. We fill it with your absence or the apparition of your absence.

We rise to the land within you and fill every window in the city

With daisies of your shadow.

We bribe the moon to rise and leave

the bed for the stranger in the first meeting of the scent

of the butterfly of your dimples. The butterfly puts its secret

in the body and thus we part, one stranger from other –

the smell of daises on our fingers

a moon quiet and the call of the scent – a warm darkness

bound together by bright red lines of our blood.

We bribe the ink of the sky to write the scriptures

of our longing and leave

the need for the stranger in the dream of the butterfly.

The passersby drink our water under the chandelier

of the stars, still warm from the night

while we await the thirst of silken blue of freedom.

We carry the prisons of the butterfly within us

And fly it, the bridle of our mirages

clutched firm in our hands.