On a day

When the wind is unpredictable
you breathe air from my blue eyes
I say nothing
drink sky droplets
as if the Beloved and you
are my flesh and blood.

With a bright orange rake
you summon dead leaves
as if sweeping a monk’s skirt
remove poem sheets
stack them into a palimpsest
to write anew about love.

tomorrow, may it never come,
when your aging handsome face
unruly eyebrows and sag of mouth
will be cut with scissors straight into
your lips for a pomegranate smile.

Only then will I lick
the luminescent red drops
escaped into my heart.

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