July 2010

For Shirin

Lustrous fingertips of crystalline grace,

Slope down to her tranquil forehead –



He finds pleasure in scattering

The feelings, disintegrating

The thought.



I combine the diaphanous white of a fingernail,

With the curve of a chin.

I collect what is grave, what is cardinal,

For every poem is a kiss,

Squatting on the paper,

Placing a bed to rest

Near the comprehensible

Like my look that rests

On a midget fold of your shirt,

Near your shoulder.