Displacements

A moment inverted Becomes cool midnight Entering a forest With her lips against my ear.

Harpsichord leaks a liquid mood Between the beechnut trees.

Cotton spores from burst pods slide into the wind. Mushrooms luminesce.

I hold her face in my eyes - Hyperbolic single being.

We weave spider webs in leafy churches

And speak words that are displacements of nighttime.

Where our cheeks touched liquid moments flowed In that place out of time.

Before my eyes,

She changes from woman to god to monster to woman again. Each moment her unchanging smile Turns more ironic.

We are all fragments of a great symbol And symbols of a great fragment.