Flying Stones
where did you get that pebble in your belly you can fly with?
for that pebble I fell in love with you.
winters and summers you are driving to work
with your long hair loose from its bun
and in the spring you’ll stop and sway on the place
where the sorrel stalk was broken.
and you are doing nothing at all;
just looking like a river air larva.
in those days I dream that I’m wrapping your face with a wedding veil
and cuddling you with the breathing feather, or
with my bare feet I am turning the handle of
the old-fashioned coffee grinder
and kissing you, kissing until I’ve ground all those black beads
into fragrant dust