Monday, April 22, 2013

[Poem] Night


The roots of true evening

Are not a pale measure 
Of time, of distance between

Stellar bodies, bright flames,
Divine orbits of shadows. 

Night arrives a limb graceful 
As a gilded court dancer of Lane Xang,

Her hair unfurling
By onyx inches 

With a smile bright 
As the first dok champa
In bloom, 

Departs in the morning 
Like a dream,

A beauty in an orange dress. 

No comments: