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by Lois P. Jones

You can have everything
now – silverstream
golden star
vermillion blood
of the lotus
I do not need to know
the language of touch
Only to open my eyes into you
to find the green center
whitewater with fire
to peel each of your twelve petals back
one by one
see my way down
to the long fuse burning
until I reach the silence
of cottonwoods
Only then do I place my palm
in the center of your chest
The heart pulses into fingers
the sod is lifted
from an old grave
Here the butterfly is a dream
your silence bright as a lantern
beneath my wish-fulfilling tree
How I want to press my hand
down and into you
until all I feel are stars
and I am stirring
stirring stirring
into where I will never be
because I need you
to help name the stillness
the disposable time
of an empty afternoon
to know I could die
of nothing



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