Entering her room in the hour past midnight,
entering her arms,
feeling her full body matching mine,
dizzy on the scent
of opium, milk, vanilla and sweat,
fingers on the baby hair
at the base of her neck,
black-orange strands curled and waving,
and she bends her head
to show her satin-like shoulders,
one black strap, one green jewel,
and she places her hand on my open lips,
gold flash and the Chinese word for Love,
she steps back, smiling,
silver rings in her nipples shine,
and she closes her eyes
to old worlds collapsing,
opens her arms to blue velvet warmth,
bringing me along all this way,
all this way into the night,
whispering, we are friends,
we are the best of friends ....
Outside everything about the world goes on and on,
dogwoods bloom, sunflowers desire,
holly berries stay red,
cat birds twitter and the bamboo rattles,
and the train still clatters,
rushes along with the soul of Woody Guthrie,
and somewhere out there
another set of lives confronts and tangles,
bleeds into the haze of a liquid sun
here inside we flow into the spaces
between flesh and the mind, breathing,
rreciting canticles of the Shulamite over faded
crystal lines defining love and friendship,
and then the angel says it's true, it can be done
the body and the spirit can both be loved.
