When you were a baby,
a naked chub-ling,
your small wild body
was a nest of love,
your mouth a bird’s chirp,
a tiny mammal nursing,
a cub, a kitten
kneading skin,
running as soon
as you could
to the cupboard
for more. Now,
lean as a reed,
your lithe hands feel
for the unknown,
fingers like stems
that move blossoms
to open
when you touch them.
Your hair is the silk tree’s
envy, tied back
from the face
that cannot turn away
from knowing, your eyes
are pools of stars.


for Sangye Land        
Colestine Valley, OR
from ‘Lovebird’ (an unpublished manuscript)