Beauty is not caused in her


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Beauty is not caused in her

If love is immortality
How shall I love more clearly?
The day and eternity
In the collection of this necessity

They might not need me
But they might, and her
The her of my smile and sight
For her my soul stands ajar

Ready to welcome
In ecstatic experience
The small perch of her song
Will she sing to me?

Hope being a feather of will
Unable are the loved to die
For her possibility is my breath
When my whole body

Is so warm that no cold can take me
That is poetry
, and that is grace
Morning without her
Is a dwindled dawn of orange

My nerves sit and wait in pink
Ceremonious to be alive.

On the truth in gossip


57

listen to the stories women
tell other women, O’
I miss my women friends
who would talk a history in a needle
listen to a name, gossip a little
that sound of other places
with a foreign taste
the ripeness of a voice
made vulnerable and accessible
I am no longer a hunter of women
I have only empathy left
In my bones, in my half-smile
You can only live and learn
In this world, there is no disgrace
That lasts forever, only heartbreak
That is extremely normal
So don’t fret, the falling seas
The falling snow, we’ve seen it all before
Listen to the stories of women
To the wisdom passed down
On hearing a name long unspoken
Take a guess as to why you hear it now
Our cries echo in unique ways
And our voice reaches the heart
At the appointed time, maybe
Centuries later, our love is recognized.