To the Following Music:
and the trumpet sounded the orient
where do you come from
in the night as the piano plays
another blues
when will you be woman
woman with a voice
you share a bed with memory
dark soils hide you from dawn
night a deeper cloak for a smile
there is no trust which is not distance
which does not sing from another land
in the desert sands
i was closer to this sound of trust
i played this naked piano first
i watched the blues pour from your eye
it wasn't a crime
it was the play of love on love
it was dawn being dawn
we are paths to nowhere
our graces are words
folded fingers of perfumes rare
leavened scriptures
kneaded by our bodies
crawl across
to where woman becomes woman
