the rose-tint cheek, the step of wind,
i watch drop, like a garment.
i watch her bare to pale and silence.
the bone moon wanes and the rock pulls toward it.
the fire quivers in the hearth; the rock swells toward it.
she does not move;
how is she smiling?
her eyes, remote as stone,
like stone, that vein below
of breaking heat--
seed juice runs red between
her lips and teeth--
why, why,
why do i love her
more than ever,
more than ever?