Its ear attunes homage to those wings
that would entice a consort’s tailored song.

Less than a gnat’s hum in the vast expanse,
its inner antennae flame with your need.

1. As the Gods Who All Things Know
You would save the harrowed from their foregone fall,

I wake dreaming of Rome
and find my body
in another place.

Blood wants an angel but all it has is Monday,
my mother

Even people can make u-turns, you said,
and I spent the first day doing just that.

Blue’s on vacation. Your eyes
turn white in this light, ivory,

I have, let’s see:

I have an empire.

Here again women thread their stories:

of men arriving where men are disappeared

Your art silvering my eyes, your tongue in my mouth wanting sweet blood-red cactus blooms