with thanks to Mirabai, Lorca and Judyth Hill
I want my body to fall down
into a heap of sandalwood.
I’ve been made of crystal too long.
I have spent too many days
trying to love what I do not love.
I want my body to fall down
into a heap of mahogany.
You ask me why. The square root
of negativity is negativity.
My prayers want more than
a new language, they want
new lips, a new tongue.
Golden ideas hammer
against my facts. Before the moon’s
up, it’s already down.
I want my body to fall
into a heap of walnut or cherry.
Carve me into un violencello,
un bandalon, un arpa, smooth,
warmed and played
by curious hands into song.
The rose says this:
the square root of bliss
is bliss.