|Never dream of pearls
Did Eve dream of marriage,
venerating blossom and vulva?
The notions of a more modern standard?
There must be conjugal idolatry in all such magic
Pray, take my flower
and from magic, procreation
the case for rights, common and submissive
idolatry put up as prize.
All desire is dispossessed in this liquid twilight.
My beloved's rise from sleep
her waning song of objections
Sleepy voice, sleepy tempoŚ
the muddle of the nonconformists
Love and sleep mingled
till the poets among us can be
I am woven in your hair
the capacity of the voice to stir flames
clings to all things vulgar
to conjecture's hot denials.
That then is the dilemma of uncommon, undying loveŚ
the grace of coffee cups
rain in the evenings
the wild bees of any normal god
busy streets of dusky simplicity
Only the pungent word becomes loveŚ
crushed leather and pearls
ardor by the cupful, liquid and voltaic.
Erica T. Carter