Her Skin Rearranges the Light
What more could I wish
than to adore and be adored by
such as the one who calls me “baby”
as she breathes in my ear;
She who bathes in moon-rays
while her skin rearranges the light,
and she anoints me
with the holy oil of her reflection.
No more could I hope for
than her emeraldine gaze,
and to remain forever in her grace
is far more than I deserve.
