The eyes of the man who loves me
seek in the dark while I
sleep gently. What rain I
am waiting for, what stories to share
in the warm rain. What rising hopes,
what a looking glass his love is,
making me more beautiful than the
truth of the face.
The man who loves me has dunes and
ruins in ancestral worlds, spaces of peace
untouched by law. It is these places I
will reside, in the countryside, when he comes
here from across the air.