Poetry

It was a broken lamp, 
the orphean tragedy. 
You were found sexless 
in a naked bowl. 
 
Making love on hay 
the moon crashed/on moonstones. 
Memory of shells tossed on bed 
of roses/was still alive. 
 
The divine leaf falls/opens the 
scars of plums. Immoral, 
a white tiger pounces on a 
rimless scream. 
 
Covered with crocus you break 
the brown hills. Through touch 
I meet you in dark. My green hands 
hold you in folded palms like a firefly.