Tell me
how a bud blooms
from the tip of her nose,
and runs south as curiosity grows
to the curve of the land
of her lips.
Tell me
how she fathers those twigs,
sprout from the clay of her flesh;
a flower and another
like colonies to the tips
of her toes.
Tell me
how the valley unfolds
in a line to dissect the vanguard,
reek nectar and rot steel,
to the peak and the edge
of her breasts.
And tell me
how the moss climbs
and bursts through the cracks,
like a sword wounds lace,
through the green
of the small
of her back.
