Not From This Anger

Not from this anger， anticlimax after

Refusal struck her loin and the lame flower

Bent like a beast to lap the singular floods

In a land strapped by hunger

Shall she receive a bellyful of weeds

And bear those tendril hands I touch across

The agonized， two seas.

Behind my head a square of sky sags over

The circular smile tossed from lover to lover

And the golden ball spins out of the skies；

Not from this anger after

Refusal struck like a bell under water

Shall her smile breed that mouth， behind the mirror，

That burns along my eyes.