Kiss of Clay

Grace is to love you; and whisper my heart; and such music:

Fire beneath the bone; and I ponder mystic eyes, aloof to

Commonsense; and speak so gentle: her ways and wiles; and

Pecan oils, float the wind; and ocean prayers, float the sea;

And stand this pain: a thousand tears; and what of love: to

Offer love; and what of grace: to perish love; and needle my

Flesh: indelible ink: it’s your name, love. So much the sand:

Neck deep; and bury heart: a fathom sewn; and polished

Nails—adorn beauty; and turquoise diamonds—speak the

Soul; and search the mail, my love; and walk the rain, my

Love; for passion burns; and ink wails; and magic words, fall

The curb: a moment torn: a nightingale; and ladybugs: the

Grandest wish; and butterflies: a partial smile; and fuse the

Lamp: my mystic eyes; and cut the kite: my kiss of clay.